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Vol. V. RALEIGH, N. C, NOVEMBER, 1882. No. 1. 



Poem— The Reason Why— Allan Curr, F. R. L. S. 1 

Galveston — Alice M. Hagood, Senior B • B 

.Mrs. Browning — Emilia R. Smedes, Senior B 6 

History of a Broomstick — Maud S. Cuningham, Junior A 9 

Flowers— Martha A. Dowd, Senior B 11 

Translations from Madame Childe's "Letters from 

Egypt," (Revue des Deux Mondes) — Sallie G. Shaw, P. Sen 12 

From Our Foreign Correspondent, V — Eliza H. Smedes 19 

The Newly-married Couple — Translated from the German by 

Esther E. Ransom, Senior B 24 

The Adventures of Two Swallows — Kate S. Albertson, 

Junior B 31 

Summer Resorts — I, Old Point — Annie H. Phillips, Senior B.... 33 

Sunflowers—./. Maud Estes, Junior B 36 

Nibbler's Crusade — Helen F. McVea, Prep. A 38 

Editorial — Martha A. Dowd, Mary L. Battle 40 

Personal — Lila A. McLin 45 

Current Topics— Kate L. Sutton, A nnie H. Ph Mips 48 

Book Notices — Emilie W. McVea, Sallie L. Daniel 57 

Art Notes — Annie H. Phillips, Esther E. Ransom 61 




Entered at tie Post Office in Raleigh at second-class rates. 

Saint Mary's School Library 


J5 Y fo.3 


*£«£ 5*"^ _,_ J Li_ 

Classical and Military Academy, 

/l/ear Warrenton, Fauquier County, Va. 

Prepares for College, University or Business. 

Recommended for Location, Health, Morality, 
Scholarship and Discipline. 

BOARD AND TUITION ( Half- Session), $95.00. 

Address, for Catalogue, Maj. A. G. SMITH, Supt, 

Bethel Academy P. 0., Fauquier County, Va. 

Established, in 1793. 

Is PRE-EMINENT among Southern Boarding Schools for Boys in 
AGE, NUMBERS, AREA of patronage, and (the Superintendent feels safe 
in adding) in the character and results of its combined civil and military 

The catalogue for 1880 contained more than 240 names, from ten Southern 
and four Northern States of the Union, and South America, Europe and Asia 
are also represented. 

Board and Tuition, $110 per Session of 20 Weeks. 

For catalogue giving full particulars, address 

Maj. JR. BINGHAM, Siip't* 

1 C ' ^~\ " I I C ' ^^" " cfwJ^lOli^ 


. A delightful Summer Retreat, specially intended for the benefit of tired 
teachers. Situated in the beautiful region opposite Peekskill and ten miles 
below West Point. It is easy of access by boat and railroad. The accommoda- 
tions are of the best and the terms low. Applications must be made early, as 
onlv a limited number can be received at one time. 


Vol. V. Raleigh, N. C, November, 1882. No. 1. 


Life is a riddle, at the best, 

None but the good can read; 
The golden grain is strangely mixed 

With thorn, and tare, and weed: 
They grow together till the time 

Both fall and rot and die, 
Death's sickle reaps them all at last — 

God knows the reason why. 

I see the poor but honest man 

Too often wanting; bread; 
I see the evil and unjust 

To power and riches wed; 
While Virtue, Purity and Truth 

Scorned and forgotten lie, 
And Vice is flaunting on its throne — 

I often wonder why! 

I hear the preacher's earnest voice 

Speak words of glorious power; 
How great in speech, how weak in act! 

A king — but for an hour. 
The meaning of a noble life, 

A purpose true and high, 
He tells in words, but not in deeds — 

We know the reason why. 



I see the statesman in his place 

Sell honor, self, for gold ; 
While Justice sits with fettered hands, 

And men are bought and sold. 
To steal a loaf for hunger's need 

Is crime of deepest dye, 
But millions stolen is no wrong — 

I wish you'd tell me why. 

I wonder oft at many things 

I see and hear each day. 
Why life to some is endless toil, 

To others only play; 
How sin can be, if God is good, 

And flowers bloom but to die, 
And hell so near, and heaven so far — 

Who knows the reason why? 

Ah, well ! the riddle will be read, 

The crooked paths made plain, 
The mists of life will clear away, 

The sun will shine again ! 
And Faith, exultant over doubt, 

Shall triumph by and by. 
In heaven at last, when all is past, 

We'll know the reason why. 

Raleigh, N. C, November, 1882. 



During the summer of 1838, some thirty-five or forty houses 

were built on the east end of Galveston Island. This was the 
beginning of the city, which in 1845 was annexed to Texas. 
The population seems to have grown rapidly, for from the report 
of the United States Secretary in 1847, it appears that during 
that year 3,873 passengers arrived at Galveston from foreign 
parts. It is now the seaport of Texas, and its population, 
35,000, is yearly increasing. A great part of the new settlers are 
immigrants from Europe. 

The natural advantages of Galveston unmistakably prove he/ 
competency to handle the commerce of the extensive region 
between the Red River and the Rio Grande, the Gulf of Mexico 
and New Mexico. She is the gate of ingress and egress to 
274,350 square miles of uncultivated territory, and to 5,000,000 
acres of cultivated land. In addition to this, the producers of 
the grain states seem inclined to make Galveston their shipping 
point. The connection of Galveston and New Orleans by the 
Southern Pacific Railroad, which has just been completed, will 
be of material advantage to the former city ; not only by making 
her an outlet for California enterprise, but also by affording a 
double route to Xew Orleans. 

To the south of Galveston lies the Gulf of Mexico; to the 
north, Galveston Bay; east and west of the island their waters 
meet, the dashing breakers gradually growing less wild, until they 
form the tiny ripples of the bay. The immense wharf is con- 
tinually lined with vessels seeking safe harborage. Even the 
large Atlantic and Pacific steamers do not disdain our port, but 
make frequent visits, anchoring some distance out in the deep 
water, until smaller vessels relieve them of their cargo, when 
they can safely cross the bar, and near the wharf. 

The cotton business is the largest. Millions of bales are daily 
shipped far across the sea. We have a number of immense 
cotton-presses, occupying from four to six blocks of ground, 


where bales four or five feet in thickness, are pressed into as 
many inches. The largest of these presses, the Gulf City, 
is entirely of iron, and there is but one other like it in the 
United States. It is indeed marvelous to see the mighty iron 
monster lift his huge arms, and slowly descending upon the bale, 
reduce it to almost nothing. One of our latest improvements is 
the Artesian well, which has been recently furnished. We have 
many fine public buildings; among others, the Cotton Exchange, 
" Sangerfest," Tremont House, and Artillery Hall. Nearly all 
of the private residences are handsome; and Broadway, on 
which many of them are built, with its wide esplanades and 
oleander hedges, could almost vie in attractions with Pennsyl- 
vania Avenue. Our beach, thirty miles in length, is a magnifi- 
cent drive; and the little many-colored bath-houses present a 
very picturesque appearance, besides furnishing excellent facilities 
for bathing. 

Throughout the year we have various kinds of amusements. 
From early Fall until late in the Spring, dramatic troupes come 
and go ; and the temptation is indeed great to while away many 
hours in the lovely little opera house, watching Booth or 
McCullough, or listening to the voices of Di Murska and Brignoli. 
One of our most charming summer resorts is the "Garten 
Verein," which is opened early in the season. The grounds are 
covered with short green grass, and are here and there laid off in 
croquet plots; in some parts beautiful flowers may be seen. At 
one end of the enclosure is a grand pavilion. In the centre is 
a floor for dancing, enclosed by a small railing, and around this is a 
wide promenade. The outside of the lower portion is entirely of 
glass. Above the dancing hall are a number of circular prome- 
nades, rising, one above the other, and connected by steps. At 
the other end of the Garten is the ten-pin alley. In the centre is 
the Grand Stand, where the band plays until dark, when all 
assemble in the pavilion for dancing. 

We have also, Schmidt's Garten, the Atlantic and Wurzlos'. 
There are in addition to these, many amusements of shorter 
duration, such as Mardi Gras. As we watch from some high 


balcony to see the grand procession pass, the sky all ablaze, we 
can almost imagine ourselves in the old days of Egyptian 

First come Ra, shedding his beams on earth and sky; Horns, 
daintily seated on the lotus-flower, his fingers on his lips; 
Typhon, starting out on his murderous errand; and Athor, so 
majestic as to rightly seem a creation of Jupiter Amnion's. The 
next scene represents the Egyptians in the temple of Isis, asking 
her blessing upon their harvests; and the next, Xeith, whom 
we might mistake for Minerva but that in her worshipers we 
recognize not Greeks, but Saisians. Xow we have a lovely 
vision of Paradise. It passes on, while in its place the terrible 
Judgment of Osiris claims our attention; and with this the pro- 
cession ends. 

Or we may watch the Midday Revellers representing " Wor- 
ships of the World/ 5 and giving us a glimpse of the Assyrian 
Temple of Belus; Rome, with her vestal virgins; Fetish Wor- 
ship of Africa; Cannibal Sacrifice of Xew Iceland; and the 
Peruvian Temple of Cuzco, exquisitely worked in gold and silver, 
and gathering the worshipers of the Sun from the utmost boun- 
daries of the Empire. 

We have had also, illustrated by the Knights of Momus, many 
of the Arabian Tales ; which recalled delightful recollections of 
Aladdin in the Cave, the Forty Thieves, Voyage of Sinbad 
the Sailor, etc. After the procession, a ball is given, which is so 
largely attended that both Opera House and Artillery Hall are 

On the first of May the Germans celebrate the Mai Fest; and 
for two days the streets are crowded with people from far and 
near, eager to see the gay procession. San Jacinto and the 
Fourth of July are also gala days. 

Thus in Galveston we celebrate, not only the rejoicings of the 
Xew World, but also the festivals of the Old ; and the foreigners, 
who, in their gay peasant costumes, crowd the streets, must in- 
deed feel for a brief space as if they had flown back over the sea. 
But amidst all these attractions there are, of course, disadvan- 


tages. The dampness of the atmosphere renders the climate 
unhealthy for consumptives. It was rumored not long since 
that yellow fever had again found its way to us, but the report 
has been proved to be utterly false ; the last and only epidemic 
having been in '68. To any one who desired proof that we 
are not Jiable to be visited by that pestilence, a mere glance at 
the cleanliness of the city would suffice. 

The main, and in fact only disadvantage militating against the 
interest of the port, is shoal -water at Galveston Bar. Congress, 
however, has appropriated $1,543,000 for deepening the har- 
bor; and it is estimated that if twenty-five feet depth of passage 
can be obtained, in five years the census will show one million 

Thus is the port of Texas growing in population, facilities and 
beauty. Who knows that in ages to come, poets will not sing of 
our little island city, " See Galveston and die !" 


There have not been many women who have shone as stars in 
the literary world, and fewer still who have been lights among 
the poets. It has been more often allotted to men to move in the 
circle of luminaries and shed the glory of poesy upon the world. 
But there are a few poetesses, and these shine only the more 
brilliantly for their isolation; chief among them is Elizabeth 
Barrett Browning. 

Even as a child she was gifted with rare talents, and in her 
vouth we find her reaching after knowledge far bevond her vears. 
This natural' yearning after higher and nobler things did not 
cease as she grew up, but increased more and more, until she had 
indeed reached a height to which the common mind could not 


Mrs. Browning's life was fraught with much sorrow and many 
cares, but it was made bright by the love of warm friends and 
the devotion of her husband. Her own cheerful spirit, too, 
which never desponded or gave way, helped her to bear her 
troubles, and was an unfailing source of comfort to those around 

It is no wonder that Robert Browning should have found out 
her worth, and attached himself to her in life-long devotion. 
Two souls such as theirs could have been created but for each 
other. The expression of his heart was: 

"Beloved, let us love so well 
Our work sliall still be better for our love, 
And still our love be sweeter for our work, 
And both commended for the sake of each 
By all true workers and true lovers born." 

And her reply : 

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways: 
I love thee to the depth, and breadth, and height 
My soul can reach, when, feeling out of sight, 

For the ends of Being and Ideal Grace. 


I love thee freely as men strive for Right; 

I love thee purely as they turn from Praise; 


I love thee with the breath, 

Smiles, tears, of all my life ! And, if God choose, 

I shall but love thee better after death." 

Though a native of England, that country was not the home 
of Mrs. Browning's heart. The portion of her life spent there 
was not very happy; her health was never strong, and at times 
her sufferings were extreme. Moreover, she experienced many 
sorrows during those years in the loss of near relatives, especially 
of her beloved and only brother. The devotion of this brother 
and sister was entire, and the scene of his fearful death always 
awakened painful recollections. Besides this, Mrs. Browning's 
nature was one that the English could not easily understand; 


though they admired her warm and generous heart, they did not 
readily enter into all of her enthusiastic feelings nor her wide 
sympathies. And when, on her marriage, her husband took her 
to Italy, where she was received with open arms, her interests 
became centred in that country. 

Italy was then in a state of turmoil, being divided into many 
factions, continually striving one against another. The great 
Cavour was making his most earnest efforts to effect peace and 
reconciliation, and through him Mrs. Browning trusted that 
Italy would once more become a country "at unity in itself." 
She lived to see the accomplishment of this desire of her heart. 

The happiest clays of her life were spent at Florence in the 
companionship of her husband and only son, surrounded by 
loving English and Italian friends, for she had won the hearts of 
all who knew her. And there she died and entered into that 
long rest in Him 

"Who giveth His beloved sleep. " 

She could have left as a memorial of herself nothing more 
beautiful and touching than her poems. And it must indeed 
have been a comfort to him most bereaved to read her words: 

"God keeps a niche 
In heaven to hold our idols; and albeit 
He brake them to our faces and denied 
That our close kisses should impair their white, 
I know we shall behold them, raised, complete, 
The dust swept from their beauty— glorified, 
New Memnons singing in the great God- light." 

Many mourners followed Mrs. Browning to her last resting- 
place in the cemetery at Florence. Her grave was crowned with 
the poet's laurel ; and the Italians, who hold her memory dear, 
still keep it fresh and green ; while every Englishman who travels 
that way lays upon it a tribute of grateful remembrance. 



I am going to tell you this story in order to warn naughty 
children, who make rash wishes, never to say, "I'd rather be a 
broomstick than to be what I am!" For upon hearing this they 
will see what a hard life a broomstick leads. 

The broom whose history I am going to tell was bought bv 
Mr. Smedes at a store in Raleigh. One morning, as that gentle- 
man was coming down stairs, he was stopped by one of the ser- 
vants, avIio declared she needed a new broom. 

"Why," said Mr. Smedes, "this will make the third broom 
that I have bought this month." 

"Well, sir," said the woman, "I've done kept on telling clem 
sarvants about takin' yer new brooms to the dinin'-room, an' 
'bout sweeping out dat dirty 'saloon', but dey won't stop it; an' 
dis mornin' I seed little Jim a-sweeping up de floor dat had just 
been scoured, and de broomstick was broken half in two !" 

Mr. Smedes could not help smiling at this reply or at the 
troubled face of the old aunty. Saying he would buy a broom 
down town, he left the house. 

So the broom was purchased and sent up to school. Xo sooner 
had it been put in the hall than it was surrounded by a group 
of girls who were anxious to see what the bundle contained. 

"Rev. Bennett Smedes," read one of the girls, "and it's noth- 
ing but a broom." 

About this time several more moved toward the table to find 
the cause of such excitement; but before they reached it, some 
one said, " You need not come, for it's nothing in the world but 
a broom!" On hearing this, the young people turned away and 
the crowd soon dispersed. 

" What can be the matter with us V" asked one of the broom- 
straws. "I am sure that we are neat and regularly arranged, and 
that we will take all of the dust from the floors." 

"And I," said the broomstick, " I'm white and smooth. What 
makes them do me so?" 



" Hush," said the straws; "it is for you that every one hates 
us so — you long, gawky thing!" 

The broomstick did not reply to this pettish speech, but from 
the bottom of its heart the poor thing wished it had never been 

The broom did not remain long in the hall before the much- 
pleased servant took it away. But the life of the poor broom- 
stick was even harder as time wore on ; day after day it became 
more soiled by constant use, and the servant soon lost her pride 
in it, for it was ho longer new. Sometimes the broomstick 
would be leaning quietly against the wall, supporting its multi- 
tude of straws, when some careless person would pass by, knock 
it down, and never think of picking it up again. There the 
poor broom would lie until some passer-by, for the sake of neat- 
ness, restored it to its place. The straws would often quarrel 
with the handle and talk about it among themselves. They 
always received a pleasant answer, which they hushed up by an 
angry remark. No one knew how tired the broom got sweeping 
the long dormitories, nor how it dreaded the coming of each day 
as it thought of the work it had to do. Perhaps, had it been 
sometimes cheered by a kind word, its life would not have been 
so hard ; but it was never noticed by any one, and continued to 
live miserably. Age soon overcame it, the straws were even 
crosser as they became more broken, and the poor broomstick 
wondered when it would find rest, 

At last, when no longer serviceable, it was thrown out into the 
wood-pile. There it stayed until one day it was picked up by 
two little girls. They took it to the wood-cutter and asked him 
to cut it into halves. This the man did, and the little children 
carried it, with several other sticks, to a hickory-nut tree, where 
they used it in knocking down nuts. 

" I tell you, Mary, this is a good stick," said one little girl to 
the other, "for it brings down just heaps of nuts." The broom- 
stick smiled at hearing itself praised, and was quite willing to be 
thrown by the children into the air, each time trying to make 

ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 11 

itself lighter. The children, having filled their apron pockets, 
went away, and the poor broomstick was alone under the hickory- 
nut tree. 

Some days after, a little negro child came into St. Mary's grove 
to gather sticks tor her mother's fire, and among others she took 
our broomstick. That night it was used to help make the kitchen 
fire in a negro cabin, and was soon burned to ashes, where we 
may hope it found rest. 


" What is a flower? A beautioiis gem, 
Set in Nature's diadem." 

Sweet flowers ! How they adorn and beautify our earth ! They 
are seen in the vast prairies of the West, flourishing in rich 
luxuriance; and in the far East, 

" Wliere the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine, 
And the light wings of zephyr, oppressed with perfume, 
Wax faint o'er the garden of Gnl in her bloom." 

On the snow-clad peaks, some still lift their fragile heads, and 
by their fair colors and delicate fragraDce, cheer the dreariness of 
the high mountain region. Yearly, numbers of them, in perfect 
beauty, bloom and fade, seen only by Him who made them. 

How many a lonely heart have they cheered, as, with their 
bright faces and gentle breath, they seem to bring a message of 
love and joy. The poor sick child, alone in its bare little room, 
turns with a pleased smile and a look of tenderness, toward the 
window, where stands the one much -cherished flower. What 
delights a child's heart more than a beautiful cowslip chain? 
The month of May, the time of blossoms, is always welcomed 
gayly by the little ones, who hasten to the woods to greet the first 
flowers. One after another of the lovely treasures is found, and 


the woods ring with merry shouts. Often are they crushed 
beneath some heedless foot, yet, far from resenting the wrong, 
they give forth sweet fragrance in token of forgiveness to the 

Nothing is more appropriate upon festal occasions than pure 
and beautiful flowers. With them we dress the hall, the win- 
dows, the pictures, till the whole house is filled with the gladness 
of their sweet faces. They cheer the lonely captive in his cell, 
and recall to his mind the long ago when he was free, careless, 
and happy. They are given to the fair young bride as an 
emblem of her happiness, purity, and innocence ; they are our 
last token of love to the dead ; and we bring them as the choicest 
offering to our Creator. 

Many a silent lesson do they teach. They show us perfect 
trust in Providence; for "Consider the lilies of the field, how 
they grow. They toil not, neither do they spin, yet Solomon, in 
all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these." They teach 
us a lesson of humility and contentment, as — 

"With utterance mute and bright, 
Of some unknown delight, 
They fill the air with pleasure by their simple breath. 
All who see them, love them, they befit all places, 
Unto sorrow they give smiles, and unto graces, graces." 


The recent letters of Madame Blanche Le- Childe in the 
Revue des Deux 3Iondes, give an interesting description of her 
visit to £gypt during the past winter and spring. Her style is 
racy and charming. Visiting Egypt at a most interesting time, 
just previous to the late war, and well introduced, her opportu- 
nities were exceptionally fine, and she has given not only a 


description of the public life of the Egyptians, as do most 
travellers, hut also a view of their more intimate relations and 
domestic manners. 

She arrived in Alexandria on the 30th of November, 1881, 
and she writes a bright account of her stay there, from the 
moment of reaching the Douane — where the guide, whose gene- 
alogy stretches back to Moses, is not equal to the terrors of a 
modern custom-house — to the morning when she takes the route 
to Cairo, and exchanges the confusion of Alexandria for the quiet 
of the Nile, and the keen faces of the tradesmen for those of the 
dignified fellahin. 

With her we roam the streets of Alexandria, where each group 
is a picture, cross the regularly ugly new quarters and penetrate 
into the picturesque suburbs, with their long avenues of sycamores. 
We pass before a number of obscure cafes, where old Turks 
smoke narghile, their legs crossed and their colored slippers ranged 
before them ; then picking our way along the horrible road, try- 
ing to avoid ruts and holes, we pause for a moment beneath the 
shadow of the Column of Pompey, the last vestige of that portico 
under which Aristotle taught. We now hasten to cross the hills 
of sand and mud that cover the ancient city, and come to the 
canal Mamoudich, with its slow and yellow waters, where we rest 
beside a grove of palm-trees. On our return journey we are 
moved now to laughter by a droll Turk and his donkey, and now 
to sadness by the poor galley-slaves, who, chained in couples, 
wait before the custom-house. We soon change the attractions of 
Alexandria for the beauties of the Nile and the sights of Cairo. 
Here we are at first occupied in visiting stalls and bazars, chiefly 
those of the celebrated Mouskv; and best of all, the legendary 
court of Abdullah, the carpet-merchant. But let us give an 
account of a day in a translation, as close as possible, of the 
author's own words. She writes on Friday, the 16th of December : 

"This being the right day to see the dervishes, we went to the mosque. The 
building itself is dilapidated and without character; but a strange sight met 
our eyes as we entered the large, square hall, which is of a dead white up to 
the very cupola. Forty dervishes, having most enormous heads of hair, and 


wearing vestments of every color, were seated in a semi-circle, with their 
backs turned to us. ■ in their midst was a man in yellow pantaloons, a long 
violet vest and a high black cap, turning slowly round and round, his arms 
extended in the form of a cross. Seven musicians were playing a plaintive, 
discordant air upon tambourines, violins and cymbals. Softly the dervishes 
began to chant, 'Allah! Allah!' bending their heads at the sacred word. 
Gradually their movement was accelerated, until rising, throwing their heads 
backward, and bending sharply, they uttered in measured cadence an exclama- 
tion whicii became a groan. One man with a gray beard had long white hair, 
which hung in silver waves about his face; another had hair so thick and 
bushy that it stood out beyond his shoulders. The noise increased while they 
bent forward until their hair touched the ground. They appeared to have lost 
the power of stopping, until the chief, abating his movements, made them a sign; 
then they rose convulsively. The principal dervish commenced a litany, and 
all the disciples replied to it by a groan more like the growl of the lion or the 
hyena than the sound of the human voice. A few Mussulman spectators 
withdrew from our group and joined in the ceremony, murmuring, 'Allah! 
Allah!' in the responses. The lamentations grew sharper, the music, of a 
strange and striking rythm, was sustained by redoubled strokes on the tam- 
bourine. One cannot imagine anything more distressing than those appeals 
to Allah, or those sighs uttered like a groan. Oh, how fine were the faces! 
What marvelous types of suffering, of ecstasy, of most intense longing and of 
unutterable anguish! Human expression could not attain unto more. At 
this moment of the drama, as the circle of fanatics grew larger and pressed 
back upon us who watched in the corner of the hall, it seemed to me like a 
vision of yelling, ferocious creatures falling upon us as upon a prey. In a few 
moments the "Christian dogs" would be torn to pieces, and there was no 
possible aid. We were barely a score of poor tourists, feeble and ridiculous 
in our European clothes, and we would rapidly be made into creatures of the 
past. Before us was a brutal force. The physique of each man was splendidly 
developed, and his movements free and strong, while all were roused by 
passion and the most powerful nervous and religious excitement. Their con- 
tortions and cries were those of frenzy, but of a frenzy determined, subdued 
and regulated, which had in it something more fearful than has impulsive 
rage. One felt that whatever one of these demons — demon for the instant — 
might do, he would be followed by the others. 

" But all this remained a question of the imagination. We shall not descend 
to posterity in the history of a celebrated, massacre. The lamentations ceased, 
the howlings died away and the music stopped. Calmed as if by magic, the 
dervishes twisted their thick hair under the folds of their muslin turbans, and 
all was finished. As we left, but few of the spectators shared my enthusiasm. 
The men had found the scene ridiculous or displeasing; the women were dis- 
gusted or terrified. There came out at the same time a strange person who, 
during the ceremony, had been in the most frightful convulsions, so that he 


had rolled on the ground like an epileptic. At the end of the seance each 
dervish came humbly to kiss this man's hand, as if to implore his benediction-. 
He was a negro, black a> ebony, whose vast mouth showed his dazzling white 
teeth, and whose eves were of an extraordinary brilliancy; an example of 
singular ferocity and exaltation. On his head was an immense white shawl, 
folded several times over his white turban and falling on each side of his black 
visage, thus making a gigantic head-dress. His robe was of scarlet, broidered 
with gold. He approached us, and raising his haggard eyes, repeated almost 
violently, twenty times over, the same phrase, in which the name of Allah 
always returned. It was translated to us thus: 'Allah is the only God! 
Allah is the highest! Allah has not been put to death! Allah is in heaven!' 
This was an evident protest against us as Christians. Had we not been in the 
East. I should have said the ranter was drunk; but he was only wild with the 
madness of fanaticism. 

•'We finished the day by a visit to the temple of Amrou, the first temple 
built in Egypt by the Arabs. In its simplicity and vast arrangements, it is a 
true church of the first ages, where the entire people came into the great 
interior court to listen to preaching from beneath the hi^h galleries. Natu- 
rally, we here heard the legend of the Caliph Omar, whose lieutenant, Amrou, 
invaded Egypt, founded the city of Fostat, or Old Cairo, and commenced the 
building where we then were. The Caliph, who was something of a sorcerer, 
perceived, while praying in the mosque at Mecca, that one of the columns of 
the new edifice at Cairo was not of the right height. As his power was very 
great, he ordered one of the pillars beside him to go and replace the imperfect 
column. Twice the pillar trembled, but did not go. Omar, furious, struck it 
with his kourbaseh, crying, 'Go, then, in the name of the merciful God.' Then 
the pillar obeyed, passed through the air and took its place in the Egyptian 
mosque. We believed the legend, because we saw the impress of the correc- 
tion administered by the successor of Mahomet. Why not also believe that 
the spring in the midst of the court, sheltered by a beautiful palm-tree, and 
by the charming triangular roof with small columns which covers the tomb of 
Amrou, communicates directly with the holy well of Mecca? The crumbling 
galleries, the pillars falling away, show as much vandalism as indolence. Only 
these legends remain perfect through the centuries. On solemn occasions the 
mosque is used, but generally the place where the Koran was preached for the 
first time on Egyptian soil is deserted. 

"We heard, on returning, some news. The Colonel who rebelled in Sep- 
tember, Arabi Bey, and who, with his regiment, has since been banished to 
the Delta, has come back under some pretext. Every one is full of his return. 
He is an ambitious fanatic, whose eloquence greatly influences his soldiers, 
and the Khedive is a submissive sovereign. We look for important events." 

In another lettter we have the account of a drive. She says: 

'"One beautiful afternoon we flushed the day by a tour of the Choubra. 
The avenue Choubra, the Champs Elyse'es of Cairo, is a straight road parallel 


to the Nile, from which a high causeway separates it. This causeway leads 
beneath shady trees to the pleasure palace of Mahomet Ali. Friday and 
Sunday, days of Mussulman and Christian reuose, the fashionable world comes 
here, and private coaches, hacks, race horses, and little trotting donkeys pass 
under the thick shade of the interlacing brandies. Here and there you come 
to villas, then to one of the palaces of the Khedive. We met him driving in 
a caleche, drawn by two strong well-harnessed horses, and surrounded by a 
very small escort of cavalry. He saluted us instantly, and very graciously. 
His face, though pleasant, is feeble and without expression." 

Madame Chikle made several excursions from Cairo, and first 
visited the obelisk of Heliopolis, the monument of that city of 
the sun where Moses studied, and where Plato came to seek 
knowledge. She has given us a charming day among the pyra- 
mids of Gizeh, and vividly describes Thebes and the ruins of 
Karnak. But let us listen to the more gossipping parts of her 
letters : 

"The other morning I was presented to the wife of the Viceroy, who 
received me graciously; I was greatly amused by this, my first visit to a 
harem. But the palace was of a taste so European, and consequently so little 
agreeable to my eyes, that I was somewhat disappointed. The Khedive, as 
well as the royal Princes, has but one wife. The household of the Viceroy is 
a model of sense, economy and wisdom. His four beautiful little children 
are strictly educated by their mother and European governesses. 

"To-day I went witli Madame A Bey to the house of another Princess 

whose life, character, and habits have remained more traditionally Turkish 
than those of all the others. Although far from young, the widow of Said 
Pacha, the last Khedive but one, is a most imposing woman.. Very tall, with 
royal bearing and soft dark eyes, the contour of her face strong and full, she 
must have been in her youth a rare beauty. She is by birth Circassian, and 
has never spoken any languages but the Turkish and Arabic. Despite the 
difficulty of interpretation, which, however, my amiable guide managed 
most cleverly, my conversation with her was interesting, she is so intelligent 
and thoughtful. Her home is an isolated palace, surrounded by gardens. 
The rigorously guarded door of a double court was opened by an eunuch, who 
led us into a garden, where several slaves came to meet us. They ushered us 
into a hall furnished a la franque, with gilded sofas and luxurious mirrors. 
Other slaves led us through large saloons and announced us to the Princess, 
who came to receive us. My companion hastened to kiss the edge of her 

robe. Affectionately the Princess raised and embraced Madame A Bey, 

and then extended her hand to me. She seated us beside her, and during the 
first words of the conversation in Turkish, I had time to observe my hostess. 

ST. VARY'S 31 USE. 17 

Her closely- cut hair was a shade between black and glossy brown, to which 
henna could not be a stranger; her head was surrounded by a kerchief of 
deep red muslin, tied in a turban and ornamented with brooches of diamonds. 
She wore a long robe of crimson velvet and a vest of the same broidered with 
gold and precious stones. Her hands were of a superb form. One of the 
slaves offered us coffee in little cups of gold, finely ornamented with diamonds 
and rubies; another brought us Turkish pipes, whose long amber stems were 
incrusted with emeralds and other precious stones. While we talked, the 
slaves, standing at the end of the salon, watched the least gesture of their 
mistress, and brought her cigarettes, which she smoked continually. Her 
conversation was very entertaining, for she has read much and is well- 
informed. Her opinions in regard to present politics were very decided. I 
think that European intermeddling is unbearable to her, and modern custom- 
very displeasing. Never, she told me, had she, the lawful wife of the 
Khedive, sat down in the presence of her husband. She never goes out, save 
on rare visits to her nieces; and lias never been to a theatre, or to the bazar, 
or even to the Choubra. When the heat becomes too great, she changes her 
palace, for she has several. In the time of the great cholera epidemic she 
heroically nursed the many sick of her household, and when every one fled, 
terrified, from Cairo, she remained almost alone, faithful to duty. 

"As we rose to leave, she cried: 'No, no; I wish you to breakfast with me, 
and you shall have a true Turkish repast.' We resumed our conversation 
until a negress, clothed in red satin with a long train, came to announce break- 
fast to her mistress. We followed her through several halls. Some slaves 
met us, bearing basins and ewers of gold, and poured upon our hands per- 
fumed water; others handed us napkins embroidered with gold and silk. A 
surprise awaited us in the dining-room. The Princess wished to give me a 
complete fete. At the end of the gallery four musicians were seated, and 
behind them were standing three songstresses. The noise was deafening. We 
took our places, tlie Princess seating me at her right. Beside me, coming 
from I do not know where, was an old mummy of frightful ugliness and great 
antiquity, wearing a turban upon her head and wrapped in a fur cloak. Near 
her was a child of seven years, one of the adopted daughters of the Princess, 
a pretty brunette, with piercing black eyes and hair cut short like a hoy's. 
There was no air of youth in her grave iittle face, and she was clothed very 
magnificently in a somewhat European style. Another of the adopted 
daughters of the Princess, very fat and about twenty years old, with a sweet 

and gracious expression, and Madame A Bey, completed the party. We 

wore seated around an immense tray of silver placed upon a pedestal. Imme- 
diately a cloud of brilliantly-clothed slaves surrounded us. They gave each a 
napkin embroidered with gold, pushed our chairs, arranged our dresses, and 
brushed imaginary (lies above our heads. Before each of us were a < hina 
plate, a glass, and a large, fiat roll, from which the crumb had been taken. 
Only Madame A Bey and 1 had knives and forks. On the silver table 



were placed silver dislies containing relishes or flowers. A large, handsome 
negress, clothed in red satin, placed a silver soup-tureen in the middle of the 
table, and with a long spoon served us each a portion of excellent puree, con- 
taining small pieces of meat. After the puree, the same slave, who was evi- 
dently the maitre d'hotel, brought in a large dish of pilau, a delicious mixture 
of rice, mutton, chicken cut in small bits, beans and pistachio-nuts. The 
Princess and the other guests ate with their fingers, but the most precise used 
a thin crust of the Arabian bread instead of a spoon. Sometimes the Prin- 
cess took the spoon from the hands of the slaves, and, turning the dish, sought 
for a piece to her taste, then she would take the bit delicately between her 
fingers and eat it. After the pilau came a silver bowl filled with exquisite 
boiled cream, perfumed with essences, and very sweet. Then appeared a dish 
of green balls, rolled in grape leaves and fried. We had to make away with 
those too. After the grape-leaves appeared a vase filled with sweetened rice, 
cooked in another fashion, and covered with very acid curdled cream. Then 
a plate, of small squares, fried brown. Our hostess herself took two in her 
fingers, which were loaded with rings, and passed them to me. 'They are 
my favorite eating,' she said. Now came, in a silver basket, long, gilded 
cakes, very greasy, but light as a feather. I refused absolutely; mere polite- 
ness could go no further. 'But I wish you to have some; it is one of our 
national dishes, and it is called the dish of Noah's Ark, because Noah was the 
first to have it made, with the scraps of delicacies left in the ark.' One can 
die but once; and thus reasoning, I swallowed a soft, gray lump, very sweet, 
very clear, and containing pistachio-nuts, almonds and dried raisins. The 
slave now brought some stuffed egg-plant, and the Princess handed me two of 
the largest with her fingers. Still I ate, but the duty had become torture; 
and at last, taking courage, I refused everything else. During this time the 
music had not ceased. When the singers shrieked too loudly, and the instru- 
ments seemed to have gone mad, the Princess would make an imperative sign, 
and then the violin played alone for a few moments a soft, plaintive air. 

"The varied, amusing, but indigestible meal drew to an end at last. They 
brought us each a silver bowl of charming form, on a salver as beautiful, filled 
with excellent preserves, which we ate with superb gilt spoons. Finally the 
dessert was reached — bananas and mandarins. The Princess smoked her 
cigarettes in place of dessert, and had a fur-trimmed velvet pelisse brought to 
put over her, for there are no fire-places anywhere here. 'I wanted,' said she, 
'to show myself in a fine dress to the strange lady; she will pardon me for 
covering myself, for old age is cold.' I assured her that I appreciated the 
costume which had permitted me to admire the elegance of her form, and that 
T had found the repast excellent. 'It is because I have had the happiness to 
please that my breakfast has suited you,' she replied graciously; then, taking 
the napkin embroidered with spangles of fine gold, which remained on my 
knees, added, 'Keep this to remember me by.' Altogether, the morning had 
been charming, and I hold it one of most interesting memories." 


Every day of which Madame Childe writes is as full of bright 
and novel scenes. She evidently sympathizes with the Persian 
who said, " Who has not seen Egypt, has not seen the wonder of 
the world " ; and her accounts are of timely and universal interest. 
We hope to give in our next number translations of portions of 
her letters on Upper Egypt. 


Beexeck, July 17th, 1882. 

My Deai: H. : — I must write you all about my journey 
from Leipzig here, and my pleasant settlement for a stay of a few 
weeks. The distance between the two places is really only about 
two hours' ride by rail, that is, by the mail-train ; but in order to 
avoid expense, as the mail-trains have no third-class coupes, I 
came down by the accommodation or person-zug, as it is called, 
and was almost a whole day on the way. When it was time 

for me to be 2-ettino- off. Mr. B and little May walked 

with me to the station (just around the corner), the servant 

carrying my trunk. Mr. B bought me my ticket, put me 

into a (I amen -coupe (where no gentlemen are allowed), and told me 
everything I had to do, which was indeed very little. I had 
rather a dread of travelling third-class, which I had never tried, 
but found it very nice indeed ; the coupe, large enough to hold 
about ten persons, being very clean, and not at all uncomfortable, 
and the class of persons travelling with me, very respectable and 
nice. In fact, the only difference that I can see between second 
and third-class carriages, is that the latter, instead of having 
stuffy, hot, velvet cushions, have just plain wooden seats. 

Well, the train went very slowly, and stopped a few minutes at 
almost every station; but that was no great inconvenience, to me 
at least, for it was a beautiful day, and I enjoyed looking out of the 
window at the country round. There was nothing very pretty 


or pleasant to see near Leipzig, but after we reached Reichenbach, 
at half past twelve, and began to ascend (even ever so little) into 
the mountain country, things took on a different aspect. At 
Hof, which we reached at three o'clock, I had to change cars, 
and wait three mortal hours. Having eaten my boemmichen, or 
sandwich, given to me by Fran B , before starting, the crav- 
ings of hunger compelled me to go into the waiting-room (a very 
nice one) and have some dinner. I took a beefsteak, a cucum- 
ber salad and a "schmitt," that is, half a glass of beer, and after 
giving my satchel and shawl-strap into the care of the porter, 
who is there for the purpose, I raised my umbrella and walked 
into the town. After going all through the principal street — it 
is only a country town — and seeing nothing of any particular 
interest, I determined to make for the stream which I had seen 
rushing along below. So through narrow streets, down stony 
alleys I went, until suddenly, having always followed the direc- 
tion I had in mind, out I came upon a pretty rustic bridge, over 
which I went. I followed the course of the brook it crossed, 
along a shady, grassy walk, where I saw a peasant woman wash- 
ing clothes in the river, or cutting down the grass on the bank, 
and little children wading in the clear and shallow water. All 
were just as polite and pleasant as could be, the men with their 
hats off in a moment, and the women and children with a broad 
'■Tag!" (short for Guten Tag). Though the country people 
look at you, it is not with the town stare, but with an expression 
of interest and pleasure, which seems to say, " We like to see a 
stranger," and which is not at all disagreeable. In fact, I don't 
think you can possibly imagine what a pleasure it is to get away 
for a little while from the city streets, city people, and city ways. 
I feel as though with every breath, I drew in a whole draught of 
life and health-giving air, and it is a happiness just to let the 
eye rest upon the beautiful trees and flowers of the hill-sides. 
You know I have never been in a country like this before, 
mountainous, I mean ; and it is altogether a new and delightful 
experience. But I must go back and take up the story ration- 
ally, not leaving myself at Hof and in the meanwhile rhapso- 


dizing about Bemeck. I walked about the fields and roads at 
Hot' sitting down often to rest on the benches under the trees. 
until nearly six o'clock, when I returned to the station, reclaimed 
my luggage from the porter, at the price of ten pfennigs for each 
piece, again, got into a damen-coupe, and after a couple of 
hours' ride through a country growing always more hilly and 
rocky and picturesque, with the bare-legged women and children 
working away in the fields, cutting down the hay, carrying it off 
in baskets on their backs, and the men ploughing away, some- 
thing after our Southern fashion, with oxen and even coics, 
arrived safely at Berueck, where I was met by my landlady, 

with her sixteen-year old daughter. Frau F is a widow, 

this is her only child, and nothing could exceed their kindness to 
me. I have a beautiful large room, so airy and cheerful, with 
four nice windows prettily curtained, and the w T alls so freshly 
painted with flowers, that it is really a pleasure only to be in it. 
From my window you look right out upon the hill-sides and 
trees, with the old rocky tower above you, whose bell rings out 
the time in quaint, clear tones upon the quiet air. And you 
have only to climb the hill right behind the house to obtain the 
most beautiful prospect far and wide of the hills with the pic- 
turesque ruins of the old castle upon the summit, and, nestling 
in the valley among the hemlocks and firs, the country-houses of 
the litttle town of Berneck. It has really sixteen hundred 
inhabitants, with an additional number of two or three hundred 
summer visitors; though the whole place looks so small, concealed 
as it is in the nooks and angles of the hills, and one sees so few 
persons, that you can scarcely believe it is of such size. 

The people are a simple, kindly, country-folk, ready to do 
anything in their power to help and oblige you. The daughter 
of my landlady, Sophie, is a very nice girl, neat and pretty and 
bright, and I like her very much. She knits, embroiders, and 
does all sorts of hand-work so beautifully that it incites in me a 
feeling of regret that I cannot do the same. 

I went with Sophie on Sunday to church, where I was very 
much pleased with the simple and pretty service and the singing 


of the peasant-children; the only drawback to comfort being that 
the peasants, for their Sunday ornamentation, oil their hair so 
profusely that the odor becomes very strong and disagreeable. I 
am very much interested, though, in observing their queer cos- 
tumes and funny ways. The dialect, too, is my first experience 
in Bavarian German, and is very amusing; — rather hard to 
understand at first. I find myself pleasantly and comfortably 
situated, and hope to have a good rest and to recruit for work in 
the Fall. 

July 23. 

As you may imagine, in a quiet place like this, with the excep- 
tion of the epistolatory events, nothing worthy of record has 
happened during the past week. I spend my time in a very quiet 
way, enjoying the fine mountain air, taking walks among the 

hills, reading some German books lent me by Frau F , and, 

above all, enjoying the rest. 

There is, boarding in this house, a lady from Reichenbach, 
with her two children, a boy about twelve and a girl of eight ; 
but they have not been here long enough for me to say how I like 

We have the nicest house in Berneck. It is situated on the 
edge of the town, right up on the side of the hill — a real country 
house, you know. You scramble up a little rocky path to get to 
the door, have the sweet, milky smell of the cows in the stable 
below coming up to your nostrils, step right out a little way up 
the hill into pretty, wooded paths, and have beside the house a 
spring of the most delicious, clear, cool mountain water pouring 
itself out into a stone trough — even colder and more sparkling 
than our dear old spring at home. Oh, how I do enjoy that 
water! I drink a great goblet of milk, warm from the cow, for 
supper, but for dinner a glass of the Bayrisch beer, which is very 
fine here, and which is beginning to give me a great appetite. 

I went down to the village church this morning with S. to 
attend service, and must tell you how much I liked it. It is very 
queer and quaint to look around this church, and see above, 


ranged in galleries, the men, all in the same sober attire of black, 
even the collar and neckerchief of the same color, with their caps 
all suspended on nails over their heads; and below, in the body 
of the church, the women, in their Sunday dresses, with skirts so 
wide and heavy that they look as though they wore hoop-skirts 
(which I really believe they do), and their hair plastered thick 
and smooth and shining with oil, and then braided in two plaits 
and drawn straight up over the head. The top and front of the 
head is quite covered and concealed by their only head-gear — a 
colored handkerchief bound round and fastened below at the side 
with long ends. Their service, however, is a very simple, earnest, 
and interesting one. The clergyman, in his black gown, chants 
a few versicles (the responses being sung by a choir of fresh-voiced 
boys in the first gallery), reads the Gospel, which is just the same 
as ours, and after the singing of two hymns, or rather, metrical 
versions of the Psalms, preaches a hearty sermon to the (for the 
most part) simple peasants of his flock. Every time he reads any 
portion of the Scripture, the whole congregation rise and remain 
standing; and he never reads it without first praying for a bless- 
ing on it. It was very nice to rind one's self able to understand 
the entire sermon, even though it was tinged a little with the 
Bayrisch dialect. 

I have been to dinner, and enjoyed my meal of soup, boiled 
beef and pickles, goose, potatoes and blue cabbage, with an after- 
dessert of a nice little cream tart, and am going to finish my letter 
now, take a nap, and then go up on the hill. There are so many 
places around whence you may obtain beautiful views, far and 
wide, of hill and dale, green meadows and ripening grain, varied 
and diversified by the numerous and beautiful mountain brooks 
that course their rapid way along the wooded hills and through 
the quiet valleys. These mountains have no geographical name 
that I can find out, except the " Fiehtel-Gebirge," and are a 
part of the Bavarian mountains in South Germany. I had been 
told a great deal of the pine-trees among them, and expected some 
of our own tall American pines, but instead find only the hem- 
locks and firs and pines of smaller growth, with which, however, 

24 ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 

the hill-sides and valleys are covered in great abundance. I find 
plenty of wild flowers, with which I love to decorate my room, 
but none of particularly fine or rare species; not even very many 
different kinds of fern. I have, however, made an acquisition in 
the way of three specimens of the "edelweiss," the beautiful 
Alpine flower that grows only at the height of eight thousand 
feet, on the edges of precipices and steep, almost inaccessible cliffs. 
It does not grow in these regions, as the mountains are not high 
enough for it, but it was given me by a gentleman from Nurn- 
berg, who was here the first few days that I was, and who, know- 
ing the interest that strangers take in a thing like this, was kind 
enough to give me three pieces. 



Mat. — Love often takes such a course with those who begin 
to doubt each other. 

Alec. — And ought you to be the sacrifice? 

Mat. — I am accustomed to be that. 

Alec. — [Quickly coming nearer to her). Matilda, you must 
have loved once? 

Mat. — (Hesitates, then says:) Yes, I have loved. 

Alec. — Unhappily ? 

Mat. — Not happily. . . . But why do you think this? 

Alec. — He who has passed through such an experience, is 
less selfish than others, and capable of greater self-sacrifice. 

Mat. — Yes; love always gives a certain consecration, if not 
always the same. 

Alec. — Sometimes it gives only unhappiness. 

Mat. — Yes, to people without sense, and without pride ! 

Alec. — The more I learn to know you, the more incompre- 
hensible you are to me. What kind of a man must he have 
been, whom you have loved without finding any return? 


Mat. — A man to whom I am very thankful, for marriage is 
not my calling. 

Alec. — What is your calling then'.' 

Mat. — Something of which one does not readily speak, before 
knowing that it has resulted happily. . . . But without him, I 
would scarcely have come to it. 

Alec. — And now are you content'.' — have you no desire for 
the future? 

Mat. — Yes; the desire to travel far — far away from here! To 
till my mind with magnificent pictures. . . . O, if you have 
any kindly feeling- towards me 

Alec. — Matilda, I have more — the warmest gratitude. O, 
still more, I 

Mat. — [Interrupting him). Well, be reconciled with Laura! 
Then I can accompany her parents abroad. . . . O, if I do not 
go away, far from here, something will die within me! 

Alec. — Then take this journey, Matilda. 

Mat. — I will not go away until you and your wife are recon- 
ciled; for ought we all three to be unhappy? . . . Xo, I am 
not unhappy ; but I shall be if you are, and — if I cannot travel ! 

Alec. — How can I help you? 

Mat. — ( Quickly). Remain here, to receive her parents kindly. 
Behave to Laura as if nothing had happened, and she will be 

Alec. — Why do you believe that she will be silent? 

Mat. — Because I have done everything to persuade her to it. 

Alec. — You? . . . 

Mat. — Yes — no — yes; that is, not as you wished, but in a 
roundabout way. 

Alec. — Did you act thus in the first days of our marriage? 

Mat. — Xo, not then; but forget that, for now I have repaired 
my fault. I did not know you then. .... I had reasons . . . 

Alec— What shall I do? 

Mat. — (Jo down and receive her parents — make haste! See, 
Laura is already below. ... (), don't let her miss you from 


her side at this moment. . . . That is right ! ( He goes). Yes, 
that is right! Now for the first time have I really conquered! 



The voices of the Mayor and li is wife are heard. A moment later, Mrs. A. 
comes in followed by Laura; then the Mayor, followed by Alec and Matilda. 

Mrs. A. — Oh, I am again with you, my only — my beloved 
child! (She kisses her). There is some good in being separated, 
for otherwise there would be no meeting! (Kisses her). And 
every day your beautiful letters— I thank you so much for them ! 
(Kisses her again). You are still the same, just the same, only 
a little paler; . . . but even that is becoming. (Kisses he?'). 

Alec. — To the Mayor, who is taking off his overcoat and 
mufflers). Shall I not? 

May. A. — (Boioing). I thank you! . . . I can do it myself. 
(Alec takes it away). 

Alec. — And have you had a pleasant journey? 

May. A. — A very pleasant journey. 

Alec. — You didn't take any cold? 

May. A. — As good as none; only a very slight — an insignifi- 
cant sore throat — heavy dew — out late. And you are well? 

Alec. —Thank you, very well. 

May. A. — Very pleasant to hear. 

Mrs. A.— (To the Mayor). But don't you see ? 

May. A. — What, my love? 

Mrs. A. — Don't you observe? 

May. A.— What, then? 

Mrs. A. — Why, we are again at home, in our own sitting- 
room! The carpet, the hangings, the furniture, even its very 
position! (Goes to Alec and takes his hand). You could not 
possibly have proved to us your love to her more touchingly. 
{To the Mayor). Isn't it so? 

May. A. — ( With emotion). Yes, I must say 

Mrs. A. — And Laura, you have never written us a word about 
this ! 


Mat. — And not only this room, but the whole house is, as far 
as possible, furnished exactly like yours. 

Mrs. A. —The whole house? Js it possible! 

May. A. — It is the nicest way of giving pleasure to a young 
wife that I over heard of. 

Mrs. A. — My child, I am astonished at you that you have 
never said a syllable about it. 

May. A. — No, not a syllable! 

Mrs. A. — Haven't you noticed it, then"? 

May. A. — What is seen daily, we believe that everybody else 
knows. Isn't it so, my child? 

Mrs. A. — And Alec has done this by his own work! Are 
you not very proud of that? 

May. A. — ( Caressing her). That she is, of course, but Laura 
is never accustomed to show her feelings, although this was some- 
thing so 


Mrs. A. — {Smiling). Her letters recently were only full of 
thoughts upon love. 

Lau. — Ma 


Mrs. A. — (Softly). You have certainly shown him some little 
attention or other — made him a little present? Or 

May. A. — (Putting his head between them). Embroidered 
something for him, hey? 

Alec. — ( While Matilda has brought wine and poured it out). 
Take a glass of wine as welcome — sherry, your favorite wine. 

Mrs. A. — He thinks of that too! (They take their glasses). 

ALEC. — Permit Laura and myself to bid you welcome to our 
home! May vou find everything here, exactly to your liking! 
I will do my part, and Laura will certainly do hers. 

Mrs. A. — That she will! Touch glasses with him! (Alec 
touches glasses with Laura; her hand trembles so, that the wine 
■spills). You have rilled it too full, my child! (All. touch glasses 
and drink). 

May A. — (While he Jills his glass again). My wife and I 
thank you for this reception. We could not go away without 
first making a visit to our child, or — rather, our children. A 


good friend of yours (looks at Matilda) advised us to surprise 
you. We did not wish to do so at first, but now we are glad 
that we have done it. For now — we see with our own eyes, that 
Laura's letters were truthful. . . . You are getting on very 
well, . . . and we old people must do the same. . . . Hem! 
Hem ! . . . Once we could not think of separating from our 
child. But now we can do it with perfect contentment, . . . for 
now we trust you — yes, I trust you, Alec, my son ! . . . God 
bless you! [They press each other's hand; all drink). 

Mrs. A. — Do you know what I should like now? 

All.— No ! 

Mrs. A. — That Alec should tell us how you became reconciled 
to each other. 

Lau. — Mamma ! 

Mrs. A. — Why are you so ashamed ? Why have you never 
wished to tell us? God knows there can be no greater pleasure 
for us, your parents, than to hear how our children became happy. 

May. A. — This is a splendid idea of mamma's. We will sit 
down and hear all about it. {They sit down; Laura, tries to leave 
the room). No, come and sit down by mamma, Laura ; we must 
look at you while Alec tells the story. (He draws her to his side). 

Mrs. A. — But you mustn't leave anything out, Alec ! Begin 
with the first sign of love and good-will on Laura's side. . . . 

Alec. — Yes, I will tell it conscientiously, just as it happened. 

Lau. — (Springing up). But, Alec 

Alec. — I shall only give a continuation of your letters, Laura. 

Mrs. A. — It is all to your honor, my child. Listen quietly, 
and correct him if he forgets anything. (Draws her down again 
to his side). 

Alec. — You know, dear parents, that ours was not a good 

May. A. — Ah, yes ; but pass over that now. 

Alec. — As soon as Laura was alone, I became sensible of the 
great wrong I had done her. She would tremble if I came near 
her, and soon she trembled before every one as before me. I 
became anxious, for I had been too harsh. I laid the task of 


Jacob upon myself, resolved to win back in seven years, that 
which I had lost in one moment. You see this house, I laid it 
at her feet. What you see here, 1 plaeed before her eyes. By 
nights of labor, by the utmost exertion of my strength, I have 
earned it pieee by piece, that she might not plunge into strange- 
ness and coldness, but be met by that whcih was familiar and 
dear to her. She understood me, and soon the birds of spring 
began to flutter around our home; and although she always flew 
away, when I came near her, yet I found in my room, on my 
desk, a hundred dear little tokens of her presence. 
Lau. — (Ashamed). Oh, this is not true! 

Alec. — Do not believe her. Laura has a heart so full of 
love, she became timid from fear ; but she could not withstand 
her own good intentions, and my humble love! If I was awake 
in my room working for her, she would watch in hers; at least, I 
often thought I heard her step; and if I returned home late 
from a weary journey, she would not run to meet me, not because 
she was wanting in the gratitude of a loving wife, but because 
she did not wish her joy to be known until the great day of 

Lau.— (Rises). Ah ! 

May. A. — But did she not immediately become reconciled to 

Alec. — Xo, not at once. 

Mrs. A. — {Softly and anxiously). Heavens! Laura has kept 
silent about all this ! 

Alec. — Because she loved you, and did not wish to pain you 
unnecessarily. But did not her silence show that she was waiting 
for me? This was the first gift of her love. (Laura sits down). 
( )thers soon followed. She saw that I was not entirely bad ; on 
the contrary, that I had sinned through love, and since Laura 
herself is full of love, she came to meet me step by step, with 
secret joy. She longed to be a good wife. ... It was on a beau- 
tiful morning just like to-day. We had both of us read a book 
which spoke to us threateningly from afar off of our peculiar 
situation, and so anxiety drove us to each other. Then suddenly 


all the windows and doors flew open; it became warm in the 
room, just as now. Summer sang around the house. Then I 
read in her eves that now all the flowers were ready to blossom ! 
Then I knelt down before her, as I do now, and said: "For the 
sake of our parents, that they may find joy in us; for my sake, 
that I may no longer be punished; and for your sake, that you 
may again love from the depths of your heart, so full of good- 
ness, let us now be reconciled." . . . And then Laura answered ? 

Lau. — {Throws herself, weeping, upon his breast: all rise). 

Mrs. A. — That was beautiful, my children! 

May. A. — As beautiful as when we were young, and found 
each other ! . . . Goodness, how the man told it ! 

Mrs. A. — Yes, as if we were going through it at this very 
moment ! 

May. — Did he not '? . . . Such a talent ! 

Mrs. A. — {Softly). He will yet become something great! 

May. A. — Something great — and in our family ! 

Alec. — ( Who has drawn Laura into the background). Have 
you answered me, Laura? 

Lau. — You have forgotten something. 

Mrs. A. — Is there something more? Let us hear it all! 

Alec. — What did you say? 

Lau. — You said truly, that for a long — a very long time, I 
was held back by something. I saw indeed that I gave you 
pleasure ; but I feared that it was such pleasure as a child might 

Alec. — Laura ! 

Lau. — I have never been as clever as some others, . . . but 
I am no longer a child, for I love you ! 

Alec. — And yet you are a child ! 

May. A. — {To his icife). Now, what about our journey? We 
wished to go on immediately. 

Alec. — No, stay a few days longer ! {Laura gives him a sign). 
Gan you not? 

Lau. — {Softly). I was wishing we might be alone ! 
. Mrs. A. — What is it Laura ? 


L.u\ — I ... I suy that if you are going to travel now, 1 
would like to ask you to take Matilda with you. 

Mrs. A. — Tt is good of you to think of Matilda; people say 
that young married couples are generally selfish. 

May. A. — Selfish? No, Laura isn't. 

Alec. — Xo, indeed, Laura isn't. 

Lau. — [Softly). Matilda, forgive me! {They embrace each 
other). Xow I understand you for the first time ! 

MAT. — Not entirely. 

Lau. — Yes, without you, I would certainly never have won 

Mat. — That is true. 

Lau. — Oh, Matilda, I am so happy now! 

Mat. — And I wish you happiness. 

Alec. — ( Taking Laura's arm). Xow Matilda, you can have 
your wish, and travel. 

Mat. — Yes ; and my next novel will be a better one. 

A le< '. — Your — novel 

[the end.] 


Mr. Swallow and his wife had spent a very happy summer, in 
their home under the eaves of an old barn. They had raised 
four children, and had seen them fly away to see the world, as 
soon as they were able to leave their parents' care. But now, as 
the summer was gone, and the chilly winds of October began to 
whistle about their ears, Mr. Swallow told his wife to get ready, 
and they would start immediately for a warmer climate, where 1 
they might spend the winter. So, as soon as possible, they pre- 
pared to set out on their journey. 

The first day after their departure, they flew very swiftly, and 
never stopped to rest until late in the evening, when, spying a 


deserted bird-house, they flew into it, and decided to spend the 
night there. As it was still light enough for them to see where 
they were, they came out to see the house, and looked about 
them. They found that they were in a large orchard, with all 
sorts of fruit-trees. With magic touch, the autumn winds had 
changed the green leaves into colors of the brightest hue, and the 
apple-tree boughs bent 'neath the weight of their golden and 
rosy-cheeked fruit. Presently the two birds saw a caterpillar- 
tent in one of the trees, and they made a good supper on the 
caterpillars. Then they tucked their heads beneath their wings 
and went to sleep. 

Hardly had the first streaks of daylight appeared in the East, 
before the travellers were up and away. They had been on the 
wing a good while when they saw a large hawk pounce upon a 
little chicken, and carry it off in his talons. The poor 'little 
thing cried as loud as it could, and the mother here made such a 
noise, that a man who was not far off heard her, and running for 
his gun, shot at the hawk, and compelled it to drop the chicken. 
The hawk, being deprived of his prey, was flying off; but, on 
seeing the swallows, he turned and made for them as fast as he 
could fly. But the swallows were expecting something of the kind ; 
so when they saw him drop the chicken they made as much speed 
as possible in order to get out of his sight, and distanced the 
hawk so far, that he gave up the pursuit, and flew in another 
direction. The swallows were so frightened by this adventure, 
that they flew down upon a tree, to recover from their excitement. 
But they were not allowed to remain in peace long; for, hardly 
had they alighted when a storm burst upon them, and it was all 
they could do to keep from being blown away by the wind, or 
beaten to death by the hail-stones. Fortunately for them, the 
storm did not last long, and the sun came out so warm and bright 
that their feathers were soon dry. Then, having rested from 
their fatigue, they spread their wings, and once more set out on 
their journey. The next day they came to its end. 

The place they chose to live in during the winter, was a large, 
clean bird-house which had never been used before ; and as they 

ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 33 

were the first to come, they established themselves in the largest 

and best rooms. Pretty soon, all the rooms were rilled with 
swallows, who had left their homes for the winter. Among 
these, our two swallows found some of their old friends from 
the barn in which they had lived during the summer. 

All went well, till, one day, Mr. Swallow went off to find some 
food for his mate, who was hatching another brood of young 
ones. While he was looking for something to take her, he saw 
some nice crumbs on the ground, and with a joyous chirp, flew 
to pick them up. He was so busily engaged, that he did not 
notice the appearance of a kitten, who, stealing up behind him, 
caught him in her claws, and soon made an end of him. His 
poor little mate waited in vain for him to come to her, and at 
last flew off' in search of him. But as she was never heard of 
afterwards, it was thought that she must have shared the cruel 
fate of her mate, or died of grief at not being able to find him. 



Probably none of our popular summer resorts are more 
delightful or more frequented than Fort Monroe. It is built on 
the very outskirts of Old Point, a city situated on the extremity 
of a strip of land that projects from the rugged coast of East 
Virginia into Chesapeake Pay. It is celebrated for its bathing 
accommodations, and every summer its commodious hotels over- 
How with visitors. The largest of these hotels is the Hygeia, a 
fine building on the bank of James River. Entirelv surround- 
ing it are two broad verandas — one on the lowest floor, the other 
several stories. above. It is the greatest pleasure to sit out on one 
of these any warm summer afternoon, and feel the soft sea-breeze 
in your face, while you enjoy the beautiful scene before you. Far 


in the distance are the gleaming white houses and the dark green 
foliage of quaint, old Norfolk ;" and nearer, a pretty little light- 
house rises abruptly from the water. But what most attracts the 
eye is the bright, clear bay; at times calm and serene, moved 
only in tiny ripples; and* again, as if started by some unknown 
forces, dashing its huge billows impetuously against the shore, 
and scattering spray in the most fantastic shapes. 

The large parlor of the Hygeia has few of the adornments of 
an ordinary parlor, these being reserved for a cozy little chamber 
at the left. In fact, it bears a greater resemblance to a ball-room 
than to a parlor, as the floor is always well waxed; and, each 
evening, inspired by the harmonious strains of the band from 
Old Point, gay couples move gracefully about the room. This 
parlor leads to a sort of platform, or dock, extending about fifty 
feet over the water, and commanding a splendid view of the 
James. In the direction of Norfolk the horizon is lined with 
vessels; some approaching, some leaving, the city. These are 
mostly airy little sail boats usually well laden with cotton ; but, 
here and there, a heavy steamer comes into sight, puffing and 

From the broad stone steps of the Hygeia there is a short 
walk by brilliant shop windows and handsome houses to the 
grounds of the fort. The entrance to these is through a rough, 
winding stone hall, which is guarded by an officer, that soldiers 
on duty may not leave without permission. Beyond this, you 
find yourself on a sloping lawn, covered with the greenest grass, 
and shaded by magnificent trees. Strewn about are heaps of 
cannon-balls, and, here and there is a cannon or huge gun. 
About four o'clock every fair evening, the largest cannon 
announces the regular drill. The music strikes up, and the regi- 
ment moves forward ; hats and handkerchiefs are gaily waved by 
lady visitors, and talk and laughter may be heard on all sides. 
This lasts about two hours, when the soldiers are dismissed 
generally to go roAving. It is the prettiest of sights to watch 
their slender boats skimming so lightly and swiftly over the 
water. At sunset, they are brought up to the sides of the dock in 
front of the Hygeia, and the soldiers return to their quarters. 


These soldiers' quarters are immense brick buildings, five or 
six stories high, standing to the left of the grounds of the fort. 
Beyond them rise the divisions of the fort, in which all guns and 
cannon are kept. Each cannon has its own separate division, 
and these divisions are arranged in three distinct rows, one 
above the other; so if a fleet were to attack the city, it could 
almost certainly he driven back by the fire of this splendid 
artillery. The walls of the fort are flat and broad upon the top. 
Few visitors can resist the temptation of climbing up to enjoy a 
full view of the fort and bay. Early in the morning, the scene 
is most lovely, for the rising sun imparts a radiance to every- 
thing. Right below you are the beautiful grounds of the fort, 
shaded by luxuriant foliage, and dotted here and there by heaps 
of cannon-balls. To the left of these stand the tall soldiers' 
quarters, and, farther on, the artillery department; its gun and 
cannon protruding their immense heads, as if on continual look- 
out for foes. Beyond all, sparkles the bright bay, reaching from 
the fort to the far horizon. 

Who could be willing to tear himself away from such beauty, 
even though promised the grander sights of "Ocean View"? 
"Ocean View" is a charming little watering place about twelve 
miles from busy, bustling Norfolk. It boasts of onlv one hotel, 
and a picturesque pavilion for dancing; it affords a view of the 
ocean, which compensates for everything else that may be lacking. 
Its waves are mighty and powerful, far exceeding in majesty 
those of Fort Monroe. In the evening a cool sea-breeze blows 
up, and the ocean, as if in sympathy, rises in tumult; now 
thrusting its mighty waters many feet into the air, then dashing 
them tumultuously against the shore. And they too, seem to 
enter into the spirit of their parent; for, after one dash against 
the shore, they slowly retreat to gather force for a second assault. 
This delightful spot is only an hour's ride from Norfolk, and no 
lover of the sea will quit the busy city before he has seen the 
waves of ( )cean View. 



To a careless observer, it may seem that the sunflower has 
obtained its popularity very suddenly; but, if we examine the 
pages of mythology, we shall find that it was greatly. admired by 
the ancients, who composed a beautiful ''story about it. 

They said that a maiden called Clytie fell in love with the 
Sun-god, and, day after day, watched him as he rose in the 
heavens; until Apollo, taking compassion on her, changed her to 
a sunflower, that all day long she might gaze upon his face. 

I do not remember any mention of the sunflower in the Mid- 
dle Ages ; but then their records, save those that tell of war and 
courage, are meagre and incomplete. In modern times, our 
poets have forgotten this flower. Hood, it is true, speaks of it 
disdainfully, — 

"I will not have the mad Clytie, 
Whose head is turned by the sun." 

But the author of Lalla Rookh writes of it as the emblem of 
the beautiful virtue of constancy, — 

"The heart that has truly loved never forgets, 
But as truly loves on to the close, 
As the sunflower turns on her god when he set^ 
The same look which she gave when he rose." 

It is not, however, the story of Clytie, nor the admiration of 
Moore, that gave the sunflower its present prominence; but the 
adoration of the aesthetes has crowned it the flower of flowers. 
The roses hide their blushing cheeks, the violets droop their 
timid heads; the lily alone, dares claim equality with this 
haughty favorite. Everywhere we see it painted; on dadoes, 
panels, decorated china and plaques ; huge wreaths of sunflowers 
border elegant bed-spreads; the most beautiful chintz has this 
blossom upon it; the handsomest cretonne is advertised as having 
"grounds in aesthetic colors, including sunflower yellow"; and no 


lady's toilet is considered complete without one to fasten her 
collar or her belt. There is no other flower except the daisy that 
is SO exactly regular in form, and it is probably owing to this, 
that the sunflower is so valuable for decorations. The anti- 
quarian when he shall be discussing; the manners of the people 
of 1882, will declare that the sunflower was a sacred emblem 
and undoubtedly an object of adoration; and that for some 
reason, it was worn upon the neck as a charm to keep off evil; 
for in no other way can he account for such a strange caprice 
as the wearing of this immense blossom. 

We shall look no more for beds of fuchsias and geraniums, but 
of sunflowers bordered with lilies; and no longer will this aris- 
tocratic blossom be found in the kitchen garden, in the plebeian 
company of Lima beans and rank-growing tomatoes; while, 
instead of fields of blooming cotton and waving corn, we shall 
see acres in dark brown and shining gold. 

I do not know the reasons why the aesthetics love the sun- 
flower; and every day I wonder more and more what they 
can be. Perhaps they may think that, although it has no odor 
like the rose, no delicacy like the lily, it has a majesty of its own. 
Tt has, too, large black eyes, that are ever turned lovingly toward 
the glowing sun, whose beams have kissed its wide-spread petals 
into golden beauty. Its leaves are large and graceful, and of a 
most lovely shape. Its long and slender stalks, drooping slightly 
from the weight of its massy flowers, rise high above the delicate 
darlings that die beneath the sun's broad glare. Other flowers, 
when neglected, lose their bright color and grow far less beautiful, 
but the sunflower blooms as gaily in some forgotten corner as in 
the most cherished garden. 

It may be that in years to come, fickle fashion will throw 
aside this golden-crowned queen. Even then, condemned to 
obscurity, Clytie will bloom as brightly as to-day, when she has 
'no rival in popularity. 



In the fire-place of our little class-room live a great many mice. 
The principal family in the village, Mr. and Mrs. Prudent and 
their only son, Nibbler, dwelt in a large hole in the broken bricks. 
It was a fine situation for them, for the school-children would 
often throw down the hole the parts of their lunch which they 
don't want, and many a nice tidbit did the mice enjoy. Nibbler, 
being an only child, was very much spoiled. His mother always 
saved the .choicest pieces of cake and cheese for him, and tucked 
him in his little cot of warm white wool, before she herself went 
to bed. But, as his brother and sister had been caught in traps, 
his parents would scarcely allow him to stir out of the house. 
Nibbler had everything that he could desire; but, when he saw 
the other young mice playing around without any restraint, he 
longed for freedom, and felt very much injured. His only real 
amusement was to come out into the school-room and listen to the 
recitations. The history class was his chief delight; and he heard, 
with great pleasure, the stories of the Crusades and the Pilgrim- 
ages. One day he formed the grand scheme of going on a 
pilgrimage himself; he slipped from the parental roof and joined 
his companions underneath the stove, where he told them his 
grand secret. They said they were very anxious to go with him. 
They laid their plans and parted until twelve that night. On 
his way to his house, Nibbler found a piece of chalk, and thought 
it would be fine fun to mark themselves Avith the pilgrim's sign. 
So that night, when Mr. and Mrs. Prudent were fast asleep and 
thought he was also, Nibbler slipped out of bed, crept noiselessly 
out of the house, and found his companions waiting for him at 
the stove. When he had marked all of them with the sign of 
the scallop shell, they started off, Nibbler at the head, each one 
shouldering a straw. Nibbler felt very grand, as he was the 
author of this scheme, and bravely led the young mice up the 
steps into a dark, narrow country. Alas ! while they were trot- 


ting briskly along, they suddenly came in sight of a tremendous 

black boiler, which made such a noise and frightened them so, 
that, in their haste to get out of the way of the terrible monster, 
Nibbler slipped, and came tumbling into what appeared to him 
an immense pond, but was, in reality, only one of the sunk barrels, 
belonging to the music-house engine. His companions saw 
him fall, but none of them dared to go in after him. They 
stood and watched his struggles; and, as he sank, they sadly 
turned their steps homeward, for it was impossible to continue 
without their leader. 

Mr. and Mrs. Prudent were perfectly heart-broken when they 
heard that their dear Nibbler was drowned. 


Again the merry feast is at hand, that comes when the 
world first feels the touch of winter's finger; when the trees stretch 
their bare arms to the skies, and groan to the winds that their 
companions, the flowers, are no more. And again the Senior 
Class wishes the friends of St. Mary's a joyous Thanksgiving- 
Day. To be sure, those who, last year, filled this editorial chair, 
are now far away. Some, blooming into young-ladyhood, are 
enjoying to the fullest extent their release from school duties. 
Some, from their distant homes, send us amusing accounts of 
their newly-acquired dignity as teachers; and two, the salutato- 
rian of '82, who wielded the pen of the literary critic throughout 
the year, and she whose facile fingers discoursed sweet music, 
and whose knowledge of "Current Topics" filled our souls with 
awe, are guiding the minds and the fingers of our younger sisters 
in the Preparatory Department. More than one has determined 
to take upon herself, at no distant day, the cares of matrimony. 

But the motto of our editorial club is that of governments, 
"Ze Roi est mort; vive le Roil" and though individuals may 
leave our sanctum, the Senior Class and its work "go on," let 
us hope "forever." 

"But how does Alma Hater look, and how is her general 
health?" say our anxious absent ones. Well, thank you, and 
excellent. While we w^?re busily enjoying ourselves during the 
summer months the flowers were not idle, for what we remem- 
bered as tiny bits of green just peeping above the ground, we 
found, on our return, grown into beautiful plants, glorious with 
blossoms of various color and fragrance. In their midst rose, as 
high as the second-story window, a gigantic castor-bean that still 
resists Jack Frost, and goes far to make us credit the story of 
that other Jack who climbed to the land of giants and there 
won renown. It is an age of discovery. Ten years ago, who 
would have credited the telephone? Have not the stories of 


Herodotus and Mandeville long since been proved true? And 
during the past year, has not Ignatius Donelly proved to his own 
satisfaction the existence of Atlantis? Be it ours to add a mite 
to the knowledge of the world. To that end, we /tare saved the 

The appearance of the grove has been much improved by the 
felling of some of the oaks, which were dying for lack of room; 
and a new garden has been made where the drive diverges from 
that around the circle to go to the Chapel door. It is triangular 
in shape, and is to be devoted to roses. Sixteen varieties are 
already thriving, and by next summer we hope to see it rivaling 
those "gardens of Gul" spoken of by our Tarboro friend. 

Indoors, Alma Mater is more beautiful and comfortable than 
ever. There is a new furnace in the West Rock-house. The 
parlor glows with its new furniture-coverings of crimson and 
gold. Two magnificent grand pianos, a Steinway and a Knabe, 
directly from their respective factories, have replaced the old 
Knabe and square piano; and we look forward to many a fine 
concert in which both performers shall have fair play. The 
school-room rejoices in twenty new desks, and now seats in all 
ninety-four girls. Some of the old desks have been moved into the 
Prep, class-room, which now seats thirty-one. The little 
" Kinder" have had one settee added to their former accommoda- 
tions. Never mind, children ; your time will come. 

All these additions have been made to accommodate the large 
number of day-scholars that have come in this fall. We have 
now more than at any time since the war. 

We must not omit to mention the mass of greenery that fills 
the great hall-window on the second floor. Flourishing vine- 
run up the side-lights and fall gracefully away from the basket in 
the centre. Geraniums and heliotrope crowd the sills, while 
many-colored coleus, abutilons and stately cannas till the space 
below. In fact, every available spot in the house is tilled with 
flowers, the greenhouse is overflowing, and though the cold may 
nip our fingers without, we keep the better part of summer still. 

42 ST. MA R Y'S MUSE. 

It is a special providence that so many pleasant things 
happen in the fall, when school-girls are home-sick and their 
duties are new and difficult. And at St. Mary's there are a greater 
number of real, hearty "good times" than anywhere else, we 
think. First, Mr. Smedes always sends "the new girls out to see 
the city," and every afternoon five happy girls go on their 
pleasant drive. And when the new girls have all "seen the 
city," our Hector has not the heart to stop the fun till every 
member of the household, old and young, has had her turn. 
Then, when we have worked hard for just one month, and sent 
home our first reports, comes Fair-week. And then comes 
Hallowe'en ! . 

Our holiday in Fair-week began on Wednesday at 3 P. M. 
The "Bingham Boys" had drilled in the grove the day before. 
We enjoyed seeing the familiar forms and soldierly bearing of the 
cadets, but we regretted that the shades of evening should have 
rendered pleasant faces rather indistinct. One little fellow excited 
our sympathies by his strenuous efforts to manage his gun. 
Another, too small to drill, could not conceal his delight at being 
a "marker." These two figures we were able to distinguish 
plainly. On Wednesday evening, the long-looked-for Reception 
took place, and passed off very agreeably in dancing, promenading, 
and the usual amount of small-talk. Never have the rooms been 
more pleasantly filled. We were honored with the presence of a 
professor and an ex-professor of the University, and a large 
number of friends from various parts of the State. 

Promptly at eleven o'clock on Thursday morning, the omnibus 
came, for those who were going to ride to the Fair-grounds. 
Upon arrival, having arranged with the walking-party to return 
at half past two, we dispersed, some going to the "Grand Stand," 
others to Floral Hall, where many interesting and beautiful 
things were to be seen. It was with difficulty that we wended 
our way to the latter place, the crowd pushing us in one direction 
and a teacher calling us in another. But we were fully repaid 
for our trouble by what we saw. Among other things of interest, 
was an old piano which was played upon at a reception given to 


General Washington in Salem, and an earthen vessel that was 
picked of Coruwallis' camps in North Carolina. There 
were many pieces of beautiful fancy-work sent by the young 
ladies of Salem School. One thing which attracted universal 
attention was a miniature mill. It was built on the side of a 
hill, and a little trickling stream turned the wheel, while in front 
of the hut rose a sparkling fountain. "When all these things had 
been seen and admired, it suddenly flashed upon us tinat we were 
tired and would like to go home; and, the 'buss coming not long 
after, we soon found ourselves at St. Mary's. 

On Friday it rained incessantly, but in spite of the weather 
the parlor was thronged with visitors until six o'clock, when the 
bell was rung for study-hour, and we realized that our holiday 
was over. Then the weary Ellen, who answers the door-bell, 
sighed joyfully, and said, as she went down stairs: "Study-hour 
at last; ain't f glad!" 

After the Fair, the next thing was Hallowe'en. For many a 
day have we looked forward with longing hearts to the last of 
October and the expected frolic. Now it has come and gone, all 
our hopes of enjoyment being fully satisfied. All the day- 
scholars, even the little " Kinder," were invited, and entered, with 
pleasure, into the games, " always old, yet ever new." "Dumb 
Crambo" afforded the usual amusement; the famous "Eat" 
walked again and filled all hearts with wondering horror; the 
"Towel" seemed possessed with a spirit as it flew swiftly from 
hand to hand; and the exciting "Quaker Dance," led by one no 
less distinguished than our Lady-Principal, had charms for even 
the Isabella of the school [ride " Bad Boys' Primer"). After the 
dance, we sat down to rest and wonder what would come next. 
We were not left long in doubt, for soon appeared the well-known 
tub, in which the apples sailed as merrily as ever, as successfully 
evaded the open mouths, and as persistently sank to the bottom. 
While the apples in the water were thus coy, their sisters, swing- 
ing from the gas-fixtures, laughed to themselves as again and 
again they escaped the white teeth which, nothing daunted, 
pursued them. At one end of the room, by a little table, stood 


Miss Hyde, at the service of all who wished their fortunes told. 
Some almost feared to approach this spot; for, near by, was 
positive proof of the fulfilment of a fortune told last year. It 
was a large wedding-cake, sent by Mrs. Lindsay, to be given first 
to the B. F. Fs., a society the secrets of which are known only 
to the initiated, then to her own dormitory, and lastly, to all the 
old girls. This was eaten with great relish, each girl, of course, 
carefully saving a " dream-piece." One little Prep, was heard to 
declare that she would put pepper and salt on hers and keep it 
forever; and another asked, in a pleading way, if there was not 
" some way to embalm cake." Receiving no answer, she put the 
piece tenderly aside, and turned to the delicious candy for conso- 

What mean these lines of ghostly figures descending the 
stair- ways in the wee sma' hours'? Sure, 'tis no fitting time to 
wander abroad! Yet on they come in silence, each form 
wrapped in wondrous garments. They pass down into the 
grove, they perch themselves upon the fence, they raise wan faces 
to the sky. 'Tis a company of astrologers taking the aspects of 
the heavenly bodies. Alas, the coming of the dawn, and the 
splendor of the great comet betray them. They are only school- 
girls, who have braved the morning air to view the glorious 
stranger. At last the voice of a teacher proclaims the blessing 
of health, and the various nondescript bundles of shawls and 
blankets are soon housed. 

Our lecture-season has begun. On Friday afternoons we 
spend a pleasant hour in the school-room, renewing our acquaint- 
ance with Natural Philosophy, under the guidance of Dr. 
Dabney, of the State Agricultural Department. In order that 
the truths he tells may be more deeply impressed upon us, we 
are required to "write abstracts" on the lecture; eveu this does 
not prevent us from looking forward to them with pleasure. 

We attended not very long ago, a charming lecture by the 
Rev. Dr. Deems, of New York, on the subject " Trifles." We 


did not know which parts to admire more, the grave or the gay; 
but all agreed that we did not often hear a more graceful and 
elegant speaker. 

On Saturday. November 4th, Dr. Kursteiner began his lectures 
on " Musical Composers" with an account of the life of Chopin. 
With eager interest we listened while he told of the child, too 
young to write his own improvisations; of the youth, thrilling the 
hearts of his first audience; of his return to Poland, his love for 
the beautiful songstress, and his sad departure from his dear 
native land. As it was impossible to do justice to the subject 
in one evening, Dr. Kursteiner postponed the consideration and 
critical analysis of the great master's works to another time. 

Last Friday evening (17th inst.) we listened to a most inter- 
esting and instructive address from Prof. Allan Curr, of Scotland, 
on "A Night in the English House of Commons." "We regret 
that we have not time for more than this hasty notice; but since 
we learned much that we did not know before, and think the 
subject of general interest, we will give a full report in our next 
issue. We beg leave to call the attention of our readers to 
the poem written by the same gentleman, given on the first page 
of this number. 


First in interest to us all is the happy marriage of our dear 
friend and teacher, the sunbeam of the house and the idol of the 
B. F. Fs., Miss Ella G. Tew. The house was nearly washed 
away when it was announced, last June, that she would not return 
this fall, and the mourners are still inconsolable. They declare 
that "no one else would ever have thought of doing that dearest, 
sweetest, nicest thing in all the world'*— sending us one of her 
wedding-rakes, the disposal of which i- told in the Editorial. 
On the happy 23d of October, many a thought followed our 
sweet friend to her fail- new home. That she will win all hearts, 
we know. May her life be as sunny as was her wedding-day ; 


or, if clouds must come, may they be like those of summer, that 
leave the world the fairer as they pass. 

Nannie and Jennie Hughes, our school-mates of last vear, 
passed through Raleigh on their return from the mountains, and 
several of us went down to the train to see them. They were 
accompanied by their cousin, Miss 'Nita Hughes, of '76, who has 
since then entered the thirty-ninth state of the Union. She was 
married to Mr. Basil Manly, November 1, at 5 A. M., and is 
now North on her bridal tour. We send her and her husband 
our best wishes. 

We have had a flying call from an old school-mate, Jennie 
Ravenel, on her way to visit Sallie Young. She staid with us 
only one clay and night, but on her return home she will stop 


Oue "sunny, blue-eyed Maud" dropped in on us one fine 
day, and announced that she wished she was here. Also, that she 
has become a fine housekeeper, and makes beautiful butter. 
Instantly we were reminded of Hettie Poyser, tossing the butter 
with her dimpled arms, and we longed for a photo, of Maud in 
the same attitude. 

Another of our girls was married last week, — Miss Bessie 
Cain, the second of her name, to Mr. Charles Hinton. We are 
glad to hear that she will reside in Raleigh. May all happiness 
attend her. 

Our sick girls have been looking blwe in more than one 
sense of the word, on account of a hard fright with imported 
chills. " Nothing is so bad but it might be worse," say the well 
girls, as they see the delicacies carried to the sick room; or, better 
still, as some evening about seven they pass our Lady-Principal's 
sitting-room, and catch a glimpse of a convalescent or two 
enjoying a supper of milk, crackers and jam. 

Saturday morning no longer brings with it the apple- 
woman and her precious burden. No five cents are now put 


aside for taffy, and there is a prospect that the girls will learn to 
mend their own clothes, for the ever welcome Miss Jane visits us 
no longer. 

We have been honored with a flying visit from another 
of our loved "New-Berne girls," on her way home from Chapel 
Hill. We scarcely had time for "Howdy" and "Good-bye," 
but the mere sight of Lalla gave ns much pleasure. 

We ARE HAPPY to have an accomplished lady just returned 
from Germany for one of our teachers. Many interesting 
accounts has she given ns of the land of the Rhine. It is said 
that the young ladies of her dormitory rind darning made easy; 
for, while they arc engaged in this occupation, she entertains 
them with incidents from her travels. Next year we hope to 
welcome from Germany our own Foreign Correspondent, a mere 
taste of whose delightful letters we give, from time to time, in our 

Died, on Friday, October 20, Ligon, the faithful hunting-dog 
of our Rector. For twelve years this aged veteran has been a 
dweller within the walls of St. Mary's. Much will he be missed 
from his accustomed place in the Rock-house, where he served as 
a faithful sentinel to guard the practice-rooms. ( )f late years 
rheumatism had attacked his joints, and he limped despondingly 
after his young companions to the field; but at the whir of a 
partridge, vigor returned to his limbs and eagerness to his eye. 
We heartily mourn his loss. 

( )UE FRENCH teachei:, who last year displayed so much talent 
for dramatic composition, has this year delighted ns with her 
production! as an artist. A beautiful hand-painted scene adorns 
one end of her room, dainty little plaques ornament the wall, 
and on the mantel-piece is a mirror with an exquisitely painted 
frame. Even the brick that holds back he)' door bears a sprigof 

We are glad to welcome Mrs. Kursteiner again to St. 
Mary's. May she soon learn to look upon and to love it as her 
permanent home. 



The Eighth Church Congress met in Richmond on Tues- 
day, October 24. It is the first that has met in any Southern 
city, and is of special interest to us; first, because one of the 
orators appointed was the Rev. John Smedes, father of our 
Foreign Correspondent, and of our ninth Muse; secondly, because 
the subject on which he spoke is one of the greatest moment to 
us who live in the midst of, and are largely dependent upon, a 
kindly but ignorant race. How to do our duty by them as 
employers and Christians, is one of the questions of the hour. 

Mr. John Smedes, Rector of St. Augustine's Normal School 
for Colored People, read, on Wednesday evening, a paper on 
"The Relation of the Church to the Colored Race." He asked, 
" First, what was the Church doing for them ; and secondly, what 
was the best method of doing missionary work among them." 
We, who know the excellent working of St. Augustine's and the 
personal devotion of its Rector, can appreciate the energy of his 
address. He closed with the following original lines : — 

A dungeon low, wherein no water was, 

But mire in which a Hebrew prophet sank, 

Malchiah's dungeon in the prison court, 

Heard Jeremy's lament: " I am cut off! 

O, Lord, judge Thou my cause; Thou seest my wrong: 

Now render, for its recompense, Thy curse." 

Then drawing near, Jehovah wondrously 

His prophet's life redeemed. A Morian slave, 

His feeble instrument, by faith made strong, 

Good Ebed-melech, servant of the king, 

(The name his office notes in double sense, 

True servant also of the King of kings,) 

This blackamoor who put his trust in God, 

Braving the princes' wrath, wrung from his lord, 

Then sitting in the gate of Benjamin, 

Release for Jeremiah ; whom with cords 

He drew from out the dungeon, tenderly 

Beneath his arm-holes putting clouts and rags. 


Tims to God's prophet once deliverance came 
Through Afric's swarthy son, who was himself 
Delivered, when the Lord for evil brought 
His words on Jewry. 

Now the deed requite, 
O prophet whom the Lord anoints to preach 
In this "last time," holy Church of Christ! 
Requite it in this land, where Afric's sons, 
Imprisoned in the pit of Ignorance. 
Now sink in mire of misbelief and sin. 
Take with thee clouts and rags for arm-holes weak. 
The soft appliances of patient love, 
With "cords of a man," and draw the prisoners up, 
To see the Light of Light, and live His life. 

After another paper by the Rev. H. Dunlop, of Savannah, 
the subject was open for discussion, and several gentlemen gave 
their views at more or less length. The Congress has no power 
to commit the Church to any plan of action, but by bringing 
before the world, and getting the opinions of prominent men 
upon leading questions of the day, it almost ensures future 
consideration and action upon them in General Convention. 
Another subject of practical importance was discussed on Friday 
morning: "Christianity and the Criminal." 

The hospitality shown to the members of the Congress by the 
people of Richmond was beyond praise. In every possible way 
they were made to feel at home, and pleasant social gatherings 
and excursions were devised to fill the intervals between the 
sessions. On one charming morning:, the whole Congress took a 
special train, and were whirled away tit the rate of a mile a 
minute to visit the government schools at Hampton. They were 
taken by the courteous superintendent over all the buildings, the 
schools, the Chapel, where they heard some five hundred pupils. 
aegro and Indian, join heartily in the singing. They examined. 
ton, the various industries in which the pupils tire engaged. All 
were delighted with their excursion and enraptured with the 
beautiful situation of the place. 

These annual Congresses tire one of the happy thoughts of 
the age. 


Raleigh has taken a new departure ; henceforth the city 
will be nothing if not musical. We have a Philharmonic 
Society. Our own good Professor, Dr. Auguste Klirsteiuer, is its 
conductor, and representatives of all the leading families in 
town are among its members. The meetings are held every 
Tuesday evening, and are devoted to earnest hard work. The 
fourth Tuesday in every month the Society gives a public 
rehearsal. Unfortunately, the first of these clashed with our 
Hallowe'en frolic, and we could not attend ; but we hear that it 
was a perfect success. Daring the winter the Philharmonic will 
probably give a concert. The enterprise is entirely due to two 
or three progressive men of the city, and Raleigh owes them 
thanks for the effort to supply a long-felt want. 

It is reported that two new provinces are to be created in 
the north-west of Canada, one of which will be called Quappelle 
and the other Saskatchewan. 

Baron Willy Rothschild is very strict about religious 
observances. He took with him, on his tour in Switzerland, ten 
devout persons of his own faith, since, according to the Mosaic- 
law, ten are essential to form a congregation. The Baron can 
afford this, as it is stated that his income last year amounted to 

The Italians propose celebrating the four hundredth anni- 
versary of Raphael's birth next March, and they will erect at 
Urbino a monument of white Carrara marble to his honor. 

Christine Nilsson, who has just returned from Europe, was 
warmly welcomed on her appearance in New York last Tuesday 
night. She seems delighted to be back in America, and spoke 
very pleasantly of her former visits here. Almost the first 
thing she said on her arrival was that this would be her last 
appearanqe,ni $hi>s. country, as her dread of crossing the ocean was 
too great to permi^her to attempt it again. She will remain here 
nearly two years, ajid it is reported that in three years she will 
retire 'from the stajfe. 


Adelaide Phillips, the celebrated vocalist, died October 
1 2th 3 in Carlsbad, Germany. Though not an American by birth, 
she has identified herself very closely with the musical interests 
of this country. She was horn in England, at Shakespeare's 
town of Stratford-on-Avon, in 1 800, and at the early age of seven 
came to America. In 1<S."J2, Jenny Lind was attracted by her 
remarkable voice, and decided to give her a thorough musical 
education. After this course of study, she became one of our 
most popular singers. Her last appearance on the stage was in 
Cincinnati, in December, 1881. 

The New York musical season of 1882-'3 promises to 
be peculiarly enjoyable. Between the attractions of the French, 
German, and Italian opera, the public should find plenty of 
amusement until the Christmas festivities are past. Besides • 
these, numerous bright amusing works such as "The Sorcerer," 
"The Queen's Lace Handkerchief," "Rip Van Winkle," 
" Black-eyed Susan " and others, will be delightfully rendered. 
It has been arranged at the leading music-halls that at least 
twice a week the principal vocal and instrumental artists shall 
appear upon the stage; the programmes made out are of unusual 
merit, and sufficiently numerous to provide concerts until April. 
New York Mill likewise have ample opportunities for judging of 
Wagner's "Parsifal." The Philharmonic Society will give the 
Vorspiel at its first concert, November 10th and 11th; and, later 
on, choice scenes from the third act will be rendered by the 
Brooklyn Philharmonic Society; and the entire finale of the 
first act, comprising "The Procession of the Knights of the 
Holy Grail," "King Am Fertas' Monologue," "The Lord's 
Supper" and the "Disclosing of the Grail" will be given by 
the Symphony Society. It seems that the latest drama of the 
great master is in a fair way to become pretty generally known. 

Music in Egypt. — (Gleanings from tlufiHomc Journal).— 
Who shall venture to say that the Egyptiaigjf of to-day are riot 
a musical people, because no Ilerr Wagn«f has arisen to run 
over their old-fashioned tastes and fancies ff Their tunes differ 


n n» ~. - __ 3 


widely from our tunes, even as the people differ from us; but, for 
all this, they are worth hearing, and once heard, fasten them- 
selves on your memory like the nursery rhymes of childhood. 
Often when the wind sinks, and a dull gray calm rests upon the 
river Nile, the sweet tones of old chants about Mohammed All, 
and Abu Bekr, steal through the rushes and maize stalks on the 
river bank. These chants are sung by men and boys, as they 
row their boats up the Nile, from Boulak to Philae. On either 
bank of the Nile is a huge musical monster, called the Sakeeyeh, 
which drones out the old, old tune, that the Nile fellaheen love 
so well. Some Sakeeyehs shriek in a shrill treble key, and others 
moan a rich, soft base. 

The tambourine is the instrument used by the dancing girl, as 
she cuts her antics before the delighted crowd. But the loudest 
jingle of the tambourine can be quickly silenced by "the call to 
prayer" of the muezzin. His call is perhaps the sweetest of 
oriental utterances. As, in the stillness of the night, the cry 
of " Prayer is better than sleep ; come, and pray to God," issues 
from the minaret of the mosque, that person who is not touched, 
must indeed be unimpressionable. 

During the past few months the eyes of all Europe have 
been turned towards Egypt. Russia is continually watching for 
an opportunity to snatch Constantinople, and such a weakening 
of Turkey as the loss of Egypt would naturally please her, unless 
Turkey's loss were to be England's gain. France cannot forget 
that French brains built the Suez Canal, and her possessions in 
Northern Africa make the occupation of Egypt a question of 
great importance to her. Germany and Austria, though they 
have no active interests, are watching anxiously which way the 
matter will be decided. Italy is looking out for her commerce, 
and England for the high road to her Indian possessions and her 
large investments in Egypt. 

It is the last-named power that has put down the rebellion, but 
she has been very much blamed by some for her delay in acting 
on the question. But was her delay without reason? In the 


Congress of 1840, Austria, Prussia and Russia, as well as Eng- 
land, decided that Egypt should be the vassal of Turkey, and 
ruled by a Governor appointed by the Sultan. Was England 
alone bound to the fulfilment and preservation of this decision? 
Had she even the right to proceed singly against Egypt without 
consulting the other European powers? And since, by the voice 
of Europe, Egypt belonged to Turkey, no country could proceed 
against her rebels without at least advising with the Sultan. As 
if foreseeing a storm, and the need of an able pilot at the helm, 
England sent Lord Dufferin to Turkey even before Arabi Bev's 
insolence. Negotiations, even between straightforward diplomats 
(for such have been known in the world's history), are necessarily 
slow; and, before those with the Sultan could be finished, the 
massacre of Alexandria took place. Then England arose in her 
wrath and fired on the fort. Just here, say the croakers, she was 
too quick. But had she not commenced action, what other nation 
would have done so. Italy was not yet ready to risk her liri\ 
Prince Bismark likes better to watch the manoeuvres of the other 
powers than to enter into action himself; and France — she was 
thinking too much of home. It is a pity that France should be 
entirely occupied with elections, as this was a good chance for her 
to show the other European powers that she should have had a 
voice in the Congress of 1840, and to soothe her wounded pride 
by showing herself now too important a factor to have been thus 
left out. True, she could ill have entered on a war just now; but 
she might have made her voice more forcibly heard in the matter. 
England has done the work, and to her be the glory. She has 
been accused of being rather too fond of having a share in every- 
thing that is going on, and of always trying to annex provinces. 
Perhaps she is a little grasping, but her system of colonial 
government is so good that the world can hardly be sorry for it. 
Despite the mistakes made in India, even the Indian princes 
themselves prefer English to native rule. South Africa may be 
instanced as an example of remarkable blundering, but a country 
so lately conquered and inhabited by such barbarous races must 
be very difficult to bring under rule. Time may yet prove the 


efficiency of England as foster-mother even to the Zulus. Eng- 
land certainly cannot be accused of having subdued Egypt for 
love of power. It was her duty to protect her residents in the 
country, and also to secure the freedom of the Suez Canal. She 
did her work in her usual unflinching manner, her sturdy soldiers 
enduring fatigue and the heat of an Egyptian summer without a 
murmur, while her commanders showed themselves all that even 
brave English generals should be. 

Turkey is not free from suspicion in this war. It is thought 
by many, and not without cause, that she was the instigator of 
Arabi's rebellion. It was a long while before she would proclaim 
him a rebel, and perhaps she would not have done so at all had 
it not been for the persistence of Lord Dufferin, whose keen eye 
may have detected the Sultan's double-dealing. Whether the 
English diplomat saw through Abdul Hamid or not, he certainly 
outwitted him. Before the surrender of Arabi, the Turkish 
newspapers lauded him to the skies as a great patriot; but as soon 
as all was lost, he was denounced as the most traitorous of rebels, 
and his death was vehemently demanded. It is to be remem- 
bered that the Turkish press speaks from the Seraglio. Let it be 
proved that Arabi was but the tool of the Sultan, and England 
will have even more voice in the settlement of the Egyptian 
question than now; for after such deception she can scarcely be 
bound by any promises made to Turkey in the Congress of 1840. 
She will certainly not take Egypt as a part of her own dominion; 
even if she had a longing for the Nile and the Pyramids, the 
other European powers would not consent that a country already 
so powerful should gain so large and fertile a province. It seems 
pretty certain that the Sultan will still be the suzerain of Egypt, 
that the money which England has expended ou the war will be 
refunded, and that she will have a large share in the control of 
the Suez Canal. 

The germs of the rebellion in Egypt are not yet fully destroyed; 
many of the rebel soldiers still carry arms, and, unless held in 
check by British troops, there is nothing to keep them from a 
second rebellion. The Khedive has taken his place, the people 
have sworn allegiance to him ; but what is the oath of a Moham- 


niedan ? He is willing to swear allegiance to any ruler who may 
he placed over him, and to keep his oath just so long as it serves 
his purpose. He is the greatest dissembler on earth, and, while 
he seems perfectly abject, when the time comes to strike, he 
strikes with boldness and strength. 

It must be remembered also, that it is not only the followers 
of Arabi Bev fi<ditint>; against the British, but the followers of 
the Crescent fighting against those of the Cross. It is a part 
of the creed of the Mohammedan to do all the harm he can to 
the Christian; he thinks he is doing his most sacred duty, and 
is certain of everlasting happiness when he meets his death in 
massacring the unbelievers. There has been, during the past 
year, special religious excitement among the Mohammedans, and 
they have been looking for new prophets. Indeed, several have 
already arisen, calling them to action, and inspiring them to 
greater zeal. 

It is a striking fact in the late war that, among the English 
troops, there was a large Indian contingent, in which many of the 
soldiers were Mohammedans. It is a strange phenomenon to see 
Mohammedans joining Math Christians to fight against Moham- 
medans. May not the cause be, that they see how prosperous 
they are as subjects of England, and how perfectly free as 
regards their religion ; and that they wish their brethren in the 
faith to enjoy the same prosperity and freedom? The Egvptians 
have the false impression, that under English rule they will be 
oppressed like the colonies of France in Tunis, or like the 
Arabic possessions of Turkey. If they could only be brought 
to a knowledge of the benefits that England would confer upon 
them, their rebellions would not be so frequent. All must 
acknowledge that the demands of England are very moderate, 
for she only asks that good government shall be restored, and 
that the Canal .-hall be open to her in peace and in war. If 
Egypt would only see the good she might derive from English 
officials, it would add much to her prosperity; for, under them, 
her people would be less oppressed, and her revenues much 
larger than now. We can only hope that, like India, she may 
at last see wherein her profit lies. 


It is believed that the cost of the war in Egypt will amount 
to nearly £4,000,000, exclusive of the expenses of the army of 
occupation and the Indian contingent. 

Sir Garnet Wolseley and Sir Beauchamp Seymour have 
received peerages and a present in money of $250,000 each for 
their services in the late war. 

Those who read the accounts in 1880 of the Passion Play 
in Ober-Ammergau will be interested in the fact that it is to be 
played shortly in New York, where the armory on Sixth Avenue 
is being fitted up for the purpose. Some years ago there was a 
rumor that this play would be put upon the stage in this country, 
but so many objections were made that the project was given up. 
The minds of the American people certainly cannot have changed 
in this respect. That a subject so sacred to every Christian heart 
should be placed on the stage like any common play ; that the 
Eternal Godhead should be represented by human beings, is 
something that must shock every Christian in the land. It is 
another thing for the Passion Play to be acted in Ober- 
Ammergau. There it is an old custom, in a country where cus- 
tom is very strong; and it is even more. The Tyrolese are an 
essentially religious people, and the play is to them a form of 
worship. It is acted in all reverence, and the persons chosen 
for the characters are as fit as can be found ; the people go to 
hear it that they may be instructed, and to learn better how to 
make their lives conform to the holy truths enacted before them. 
But the Tyrolese and the Americans have very different dispo- 
sitions; the reverence of the one is lacking in the other. There 
is no doubt but that a throng of people will go to hear the play 
in New York, but how many of them will go to be instructed? 
It is something new, something out of the common run of every- 
day life, something from the Continent, so of course it will draw 
its crowds. Surely there are men in the world too reverent to 
think indifferently of a sacrilege such as this, and who will 
use their influence to prevent it. 



Our table is piled high with exchanges. We are even 
remembered by the "Hub" with a copy of the Journal of Edu- 
cation. In it we find, among other good things, one of a series 
of papers entitled " School-room Sketches — for Young Teachers." 
Two excellent articles are from the pen of Dr. Mayo, and recall 
his pleasant talk to us last winter. 

The Educational Journal of our own State was among 
the first to greet us on the opening of the session. The October 
number is filled with useful hints, and pleasant accounts of the 
North Carolina schools. It contains, also, a full description of 
Cornell University. 

The Palladium comes to us like an old friend after a lono- 
absence. Among the articles we notice especially " Mental 
States,' 1 in which our own feelings before and after examination, 
are graphically given. Would that we had had a magic carpet 
to transport us to far Illinois when our sister editors were enjoy- 
ing the operetta of which they give so charming an account. 

A new friend has found its way to us — The Outlook, from 
Alfred Centre, New York. This is only its sixth number. A 
paper so interesting when so young deserves to be successful. 

AVe are glad to see occasionally the University Monthly. 

Two more numbers of the monthly Packet, edited by Miss 
Younge, have been sent us by a kind English friend. As usual 
its pages are full of interest, for it is certainly most delightful 
to hear each month words from one whom we all know and love 
as we do its editor. The very prettiest serial story in the present 
volume is "Stray Pearls." It is especially charming to those 
who have read "Chaplet of Pearls," and who find many of 
the sweet traits of Eustacie reproduced in her granddaughter. 
The sketch of country life in "Out of the World" gives us 
a very good idea of what an English village must be, and in this 
article the charity tickets so prevalent in* large parishes are most 
severely condemned. Good practical hints on Sunday-school 


teaching, or on work for the poor are found in every number of 
the magazine; while Miss Younge's "Conversations on Books 
and Pictures" meet a want often felt. The letters about " Cali- 
fornia" are of special interest to us, and the glowing descriptions 
of the writer may well make us proud of our magnificent 
western forests. "Translations from the Greek Tragedians" 
give those who are interested in classic drama, a peep into the 
wondrous poetry of the ancients, while an article on the Greek 
Testament for ladies, explains much that is difficult to understand 
in the New Testament. Even the young folks are not forgotten ; 
and who knows how many future Miss Younges are being 
trained by the " Spider Compositions " ? 

Tennyson's new play, which will be produced at the " Globe" 
early next month is called "The Promise of May." It is a 
pathetic drama of rustic life. The dialogue is in prose throughout. 

Longfellow's posthumous work, "Michael Angelo, a 
Tragedy," will be issued in a few weeks. 

Many bright and attractive books for the holidays, which 
we hope to have the pleasure of reviewing, are announced by 
Messrs. White and Stokes of New York. Among them a new 
edition of Charlotte Bronte's Poems; an elegant edition of Henry 
Fielding's works, in large type, and " College Cuts," a collection 
of humorous sketches in the style of Du Maurier. 

There are two catalogues from London booksellers before 
us ; Herberts', from Groswell Road, announces some very ancient 
and valuable books. There is a translation of the Psalms of 
David dated 1560, and a book on Earthquakes printed in 1756. 
Saudell and Smith's Cheap Book Catalogue advertises many 
quaint volumes at low prices. 

The New York Tribune recently advertised "The Comic 
Liar," a book not commonly found in Sunday-schools, by 
the Funny Man of the New York Times, with harrowing 
and heart-breaking illustrations." We propose to have a look at 
the same. 

We have just received from Christem, " Petites Miseres," a 
collection of bright, graceful French stories, by H. Lafontaine, 


who, if we are to judge by this, his first work, bids fair to be as 
bright a star in his department of literature, as was the elder 
Lafontaine. " Petites Miseres " has been crowned by the 
Academic Francaise. One of its stories will be found translated 
in the next number of the Muse. 

Another French work lately received, is " Poverina," by 
the Princess Olga Contacuzene. 

A very QUAINT hook which has recently fallen into our 
hands is a Japanese work entitled " The Loyal Ronins," trans- 
lated by Shiniehiro Saito and Edward Greey. We gain from it 
an intimate knowledge of Japanese customs and ways of think- 
ing; and although the story is rambling and inculcates only the 
moral of fidelity to party, right or wrong, it well repays the time 
spent in perusing it. 

A Ronin, or wave-man, is a vassal who has lost his lord, by 
death or otherwise, and, refusing to enter the service of another, 
rambles about at his own free will. "The Loyal Ronins" is the 
story of forty-seven such men who bind themselves to avenge the 
death of their master, Morningfield, Lord of Ako. The latter 
had been requested by Lord Kira, his inferior in rank, but 
Master of Ceremonies to the Shogun, to tie his shoe. For 
answer, Morningfield draws his sword, unfortunately within the 
precincts of the Shogun's palace. For this offense he is ordered 
to commit hara-kiri, which he does with dignity. Vengeance is 
finally accomplished upon Kira, but the forty-seven die for their 
attempt. Their death is thus described: 

"On the 4th of February, 1702, at the hour of the Snake (10 A. M.) the 
Ronins were all kneeling on thick mats spread in the court-yard of Lord 
Narrow River, while forty-seven glittering weapons were raised above their 
heads. * * * * * 

" Before tire sound of the temple bells had ceased to vibrate on the air 
forty-six shadowy forms, headed by the spirit of .Sir Big Rock, fell into line 
and began their march down the Lonely Road. 

"Together they mounted the Hill of Death, together halted at the place 
where the three roads meet; here they stripped off their white robes, which 
they handed to Sanzu-no-Baba, and boldly plunging into the dark river, passed 
over to Gokuraku (Paradise!, where they were welcomed by the spirit of their 
beloved chief." 


The main interest of the story lies in the various intrigues of 
the Ronins to ensnare the officers of Sir Kir'a, but, amid all these 
plots and counterplots, there runs an undercurrent of domestic 
life and happiness (save that the father, in the end, always com- 
mits hara-kiri and leaves his family desolate). The manner of 
living is noted in the minutest detail, even to the mode of pre- 
paring food and sake or wine. Nothing could show a more complete 
picture of domestic felicity than the letter written by Sir Hatchet 
to his dear wife Brilliant. His gentle consideration for her, and 
sadness at the thought of how she must feel in their reduced cir- 
cumstances, are touching in the extreme; while her love for her 
husband is shown in the line he quotes from her letter: "Yet I 
cannot sleep from thinking of you." Mrs. Brilliant must have 
been a good housewife, for Sir Hatchet rejoiced in the thought 
that, though "the sleeves and linings of his clothes were begin- 
ning to wear," he would soon be with her, and all such troubles 
would be at an end. He remembered his wife even in his enjoy- 
ments, for going into a store to buy some geese, and finding they 
were nice and reasonable, he took all the trouble to bone and salt 
one and jfend it to her. The author has evidently a great aversion 
to talkative women, and thinks no punishment inflicted on them 
too severe, for when Sir Big Rock is obliged, in order to fulfil his 
duties as a loyal Ronin, to put away his noble wife, the sole 
reason he gives is : " You talk too much ; I shall give you a letter 
of divorce." And the lady of Japan leaves, thinking it a favor 
to be allowed to keep her children. 

The comic and pathetic are strangely mingled ; in the saddest 
conversations one can scarcely restrain a smile at the utter sub- 
missiveness of the wife, who dares address her lord only as "my 
honorable husband." 

The tender pathos of the book is touchingly seen in the rever- 
ence of these lawless Ronins for their aged mothers. Sir Com- 
mon, having deceived his mother as to the real intent of his 
journey to Yedo, returns eighteen miles to allay her fears and 
bid her a last farewell. 


But better even than the description of domestic life is the 
inimitable description of Quacks. The imposing appearance of 
their dwellings, their high and lofty air of supreme knowledge, 
the care they take never to approach infectious diseases without 
having their pockets stuffed with disinfectants, remind us of the 
pen of Dickens. 

Altogether, the book gives us a vivid impression of that strange 
country which is just beginning to reveal its secrets to the world. 


There is a short autumnal exhibition at the National Academy 
of Design. It is not a very full one, as most of the artists keep 
their best works for the winter exhibition, and very few have as 
yet settled in their studios. Smedler's little sketch of an old 
farmer, gazing with a rather puzzled expression upon a hopeless 
tangle of weeds and branches, is nicely conceived. Among the 
water-colors are some flowers by Dougan, a new name quite 
remarkable for exquisite drawing and a sensitive and refined use 
of aquarelle. The Morans (Leon and Percy) repeat their suc- 
cesses of last year. "Gathering Lilacs," by Waterhouse, is a 
pretty subject treated in a very graceful manner. Mr. Dulman's 
study of a merry, roguish boy, apparently "hooking" apples, is 
much admired. There is also a charming picture by Lippineott 
of a girl artist under the trees. The gallery is decidedly worth 


A VERY FINE PICTURE of Bishop Whitingham, painted by 
Huntingdon, is on exhibition at Grace House. 

A REMARKABLE story has just reached us from Xew Orleans. 
It states mat a gentleman of that city has recently bought of a 
poor Spanish family a picture which proves to be the long-lost 
Raffaelle, "The Last Supper," painted in 1506, in the same year 
as the artist's " Dispute of the Sacrament." This painting was 


lost at the sacking of Rome in 1527. No one can ascertain what 
became, of it from that time until about one hundred years ago, 
when it passed into the possession of this Spanish family. 

On our return to St. Mary's this fall, we were delighted by 
the many improvements in our Art Room. We found new 
models for charcoal and crayon drawings, as well as new designs 
for mineral and oil-painting. Especially were we charmed by 
a fine copy of De Haas, called " The Moonlight Scene." All 
are anxious to improve and full of enthusiasm for their work. 
The students of mineral-painting are few at present, but others 
intend to join them after Christmas. There are three or four 
working in water-colors, but by far the greater number in oils. 
Mirror-painting is a novelty, and a very pretty one; as yet 
Madame Paulin and Miss Hyde alone have attempted it. Our 
Rector has presented us with two handsomely-bound portfolios, 
entitled "The Art Treasures of America." They contain full 
descriptions and fine India proofs of the best pictures of the Cor- 
coran Gallery, and the collections of Gibson, Mrs. A. T. Stewart, 
Mr. Wolfe, Mr. Belmont and others. 

Among the paintings of the Corcoran Gallery, we are particu- 
larly struck with the beautiful face of Charlotte Corday; and in 
the sculpture of the Gallery, " The Dying Napoleon," and " The 
Greek Slave," excite our warm admiration. Mrs. A. T. Stewart's 
collection is generally conceded to be the best private collection 
in the country. Her "Algerian Snake-Charmer," executed by 
the celebrated artist, Mariano Fortuny in 1870, is one of the 
achievements of the nineteenth century, which may be confidently 
put beside those of the great masters. The painting of " Benedick 
and Beatrice" displays great talent, and at almost a single glance 
may be recognized as the work of H. Merle. " The Japanese 
Toilet," by Girard, appears in the collection of Mr. Auguste 

Flaxman's Compositions to illustrate Homer, Hesiod and 
jEscpylus," is another acquisition to our studio. 

Two new pictures have arrived. One, a copy of "Ruben's 
Child/' is the work of our former art-teacher — Miss Norwood. 


It reproduces Ruben's exquisite coloring with great accuracy. 
The other, called " L'Ange <le la Purete," is an engraving by 
Jouannin from the original painting of Charles Landelle. Jt 
represents a beautiful woman with her eyes gazing heavenward, 
and bearing a lily on her left shoulder. This picture has the 
same peculiar softness as his " Presentment of the Virgin," in 
the " Luxembourg." In addition to our books and new pictures, 
it is reported that there will soon be a studio exclusively for 
mineral painters. Finally, the number of students is larger than 
for several years past. Thus, under favorable auspices, we are 
bound for a happy journey into the land of Art. 



A Classical Mathematical, Scientific and English School, with 
Military Organization and Discipline. 



J. IKVING SALE (University of Virginia), Commant of Cadets, Latin, 

Mathematics, Natural Sciences and English Branches. 
TH. v. JASMUND, Ph. D., Erench, German, Geography, and History. 

The School has been under its present management for THIRTY YEARS; 
and in this sense, it is, we believe, the OLDEST SCHOOL in the South. 

Long experience and watchful observation have enabled us to make many 
improvements in our methods of instruction and discipline ; and the fact that 
a large proportion of our boys have been able to compete successfully for the 
highest honors in the various colleges and Universities of the country, fur- 
nishes satisfactory evidence of the excellence of our system. The buildings 
are new, commodious and well-arranged for comfort and health. The school- 
rooms are furnished with the neatest furniture, and the walls are hung with 
fine pictures and maps, in order to exert a refining influence upon the students. 

No expense or pains will be spared to maintain the high reputation of the 


and to make it complete in all the requirements of a first-rate preparatory 
and finishing Academy. None but well-qualified Assistant Instructors will be 
employed ; and none but honorable and studious boys will be retained in the 

The location is retired, but not so remote from the town as to lose the health- 
ful influence of its refined society. Students live in the family of the Princi- 
pals; and their conduct out rif school and in school is strictly supervised and 
controlled. The standard of scholarship and of gentlemanly deportment is 

The course of study is complete. The Text-Books are up to the latest ad- 
vancements in every department and the best educational advantages in all 
the appointments of the School are provided. The session is divided into two 
terms of twenty weeks each, with three weeks' interval. 

The first term of the scholastic year begins the first Monday in August; 
the second, the second Monday in January. 

The charge for board and tuition is $100 for each session, or $200 for the 
whole scholastic year, payable at the begining of each term. 

For further particulars apply to 




% Quarbrltj ffiagaztttf, 



Vol. V. RALEIGH, N. C, FEBRUARY, 1883. No. 2. 

1 . 


Strawberry Culture in South Carolina .... 

— Fanny Mel. Lucas, Sen. B 65 

The Cave of vEolus— Emilie W. McVea, Sen. B 68 

The Roan — Eliza M. Skinner, Jun. C 71 

Amoxo the Pines — Elizabeth P. Mangum, Sen. B 74 

The Scissors that Grumbled — Altona F. Gales, Jun. C 75 

From Our Foreign Correspondent, VI — Eliza H. Swedes 77 

Nanine, Part I— Translated from the French of H. La Fontaine, by 

Emilie R. Smedes, Sen. B 81 

Summer Resorts — II, The White Sulphur Springs— Esther E. 

Ransom, Sen. B 88 

The Adventures of a Donkey — Emily St. P. Morgan, Jun. A.. 92 

My Poultry Farm— Mary L. Osborne, Jun. B 94 

Report of Prof. Curr's Lecture — A Night in the House of 

Commons — Alice M. Ha good 97 

Editorial — Martha A. Dowel 103 

Personal .»... 106 

Current Topics — 

Gambetta — The Spectroscope — The Recent Floods — The 

National Park— Emilie W. McVea 108 

Discoveries in Africa — Lizzie Lewis 114 

Book Notices — Kate L. Sutton 118 

Music and the Drama— Annie H. Philips 120 




Entered at the Post Office in Raleigh at second-class rates. 

DT?TIJ1?T Classical and Military Academy, 

U JJ J i l_J Li ^ ear Warrenton, Fauquier County, Va. 

Prepares for College, University or Business. 

Recommended for Location, Health, Morality, 
Scholarship and Discipline. 

BO AHI> AND TUITION (Half-Session), $95.00. 

Address, for Catalogue, Maj. A. G. SMITH, Supt., 

Bethel Academy P. 0., Fauquier County, Va. 

Established in 1793. 

Is PRE-EMINENT among Southern Boarding Schools for Boys in 
AGE, IS UMBERS, AREA of patronage, and (the Superintendent feels safe 
in adding) in the character and results of its combined civil and military 

The catalogue for 1880 contained more than 240 names, from ten Southern 
and four Northern States of the Union, and South America, Europe and Asia 
are also represented. 

Board and Tuition, $110 per Session of 20 Weeks. 

For catalogue giving full particulars, address 

Maj. R. BINGHAM, Sup't. 


A delightful Summer Retreat, specially intended for the benefit of tired 
teachers. Situated in the beautiful region opposite Peekskill and ten miles 
below West Point. It is easy of access by boat and railroad. The accommoda- 
tions are of the best and the terms low. Applications must be made early, as 
only a limited number can be received at one time. 


Vol. V. Raleigh, N. C, February, 1883. Xo. 2. 


Strawberries are cultivated for family use throughout South 
Carolina, but special attention is given them on the south-eastern 
coast, whence a good supply is sent to northern markets. In the 
suburbs of Charleston there are numbers of strawberry farms, 
and many people make a livelihood by the sale of berries. They 
ship large quantities of them to the North, for the season is so 
much later there that the farmer commands a pretty good price 
for the first fruit ; and when no disaster, such as frost, befalls the 
crop, it is a very profitable one. It is the uncertainty of the 
strawberry crop which, in the opinion of the cautious farmer, 
renders the planting of grapes, cotton, or rice preferable. If the 
spring should be late, the result is excellent. On one occasion, 
on account of the mildness of the winter, the berries ripened in 
the month of January, and lasted until the middle or latter part 
of May. This was an exceptional case; but the poor farmer 
gained little by it, for the following season proved as short as this 
had been long. 

The cultivation of strawberries can be carried on very success- 
fully on a small scale, and, as every one knows, proper attention 
can be more readily given to a small crop than to a large one. 
A moist, well-drained, rich soil is best suited to the cultivation of 
berries, and, as Mr. Roe of Cornwall-on-the-Hudson says, plenty 
of water is the first desideratum, the second, and the third. The 
plants must, also, be in an exposed position, so that they can get 
plenty of sunlight; shade is a disadvantage, as the sun is neces- 
sary to bring out the full flavor of the fruit. If the farmer pre- 


fers quality to quantity, he purchases the choicest varieties of 
plants at some Northern nursery. He carefully plants them in 
tiny pots, and buries these up to the rim in the earth, where they 
remain until the latter part of the winter. By that time the plants 
are firmly rooted, and ready for transplanting. After they are 
set out the farmer covers them up to the top leaves with straw, 
so that the soil will retain its moisture. New plants are best 
obtained by layering in three-inch pots, and then severing the 
young plants from the old, and transplanting them. This pro- 
cess enables a farmer to get fruit the first spring, a great considera- 
tion, since for most other fruit he must wait several years. 

As I have before intimated, dry weather is a serious drawback 
to strawberry culture. This can be obviated, if there is any stream 
of water on the place, by planting the berries in its neighborhood. 
I have seen the water running through pipes from the spring to 
the beds. The pipes were so arranged that they could be moved 
with very little trouble so that the water could be forced to run 
down a different row each day, and in this way the soil was kept 
always moist. The modern varieties, such as the Seth Boyden 
and Monarch of the West are far superior to those formerly 
esteemed, which were much smaller and very acid. The newest 
kinds are not only larger, they are finer in flavor; for their size 
does not lessen, but rather increases, their delicacy and richness. 
The Seth Boyden, when properly taken care of, will reach the 
size of a guinea's egg. These berries are of a deep red color, and 
are, in this respect, a contrast to the English fruit, which is often 
a pale straw. 

Nothing can be more charming than a visit to a strawberry 
farm, though I think it must be very poor fun to live on one. 
Once, while in Charleston, I, with several others, received an invi- 
tation from a friend to spend the day with her on her strawberry 
farm. She thought that we should enjoy seeing the place and 
watching the negroes at their work of gathering and packing the 
berries. According to agreement, we set out about ten o'clock 
one bright, sunshiny day in the latter part of April. We took 
the Enterprise car up to the terminus, and then walked the 


remainder of the distance, not more than halt* a mile, over a nice 
road through the plantation. The walk seemed but too short, 
and presently the house came in sight. A more picturesque little 
dwelling can scarcely he conceived of; one could almost imagine 
himself in fairyland. The air was redolent with tea-roses which 
hung in graceful luxuriance on the latticed piazza, and together 
with the Indian-creeper, made it an enticing retreat. In front of 
the vine-clad cottage was a beautiful flower-garden filled with 
choice plants. To the left flowed the river, and on the right, as 
far as the eye could reach, Mere row upon row of the bright 
strawberry plants. The dark green leaves served to brighten the 
rich color of the luscious berries peeping from under their foliage, 
and one could not help wondering if the hands that picked them 
did not find it difficult not to travel mouthward. 

In addition to those who were engaged in picking the berries, 
others were busily employed in sorting them and packing them 
carefully into the crates, ready for shipping. The process of sort- 
ing was rendered much shorter than one would suppose, by means 
of a machine. This machine was a kind of wooden trough, 
turned by a handle; and, as the berries slowly poured from the 
trough into the vessel below, the imperfect ones were picked out 
by the hands. 

One risk in the cultivation of this fruit arises from its rapid 
decay. After reaching maturity, berries will not keep nearly so 
long as grapes, nor may they be picked before they are ripe and 
allowed to ripen in the house, like every other fruit. Indeed, 
the flavor of pears is much finer if they are picked green and 
left to ripen in a dark closet. Another consideration is this: in 
a country where rogues are plentiful, the farmer sometimes loses 
more than half his crop by having it stolen by some idle negro, 
who often sells the berries for more than twice as much as the 
owner could obtain for them. 

Labor is generally abundant, and it is a very different matter 
to secure hands at this season of the year from what it is during 
the cotton-picking, when they are so much more in demand. 
Moreover, the negro is very willing to hire himself out for little 


odd jobs, and berry-picking will come under this head, since the 
crop lasts only a short time. When it comes to hiring himself 
by the year, or even month, Sambo looks dubious, fearing to lose 
his sense of freedom ; and, in preference to having a nice, com- 
fortable home and regular employment, he chooses a little patch 
of cotton and corn that he can call his own, and the blessed privi- 
lege of sleeping off the lot. The idleness of the darkey is pro- 
verbial, and unless you are continually watching, he will take 
advantage at every turn. The farmer has to keep an eye on his 
strawberries, or he will receive but a small share of them. 

It was so pleasant to watch the work going on that we did not 
realize how time was flying until the blowing of the horn, the 
signal for the hands to knock off work, told us that it was near 
sunset. The negroes hurried from every direction, whistling as 
if their hearts were very light, now that their day's labor was 
done. We soon turned our steps homewards, saying that, in 
strawberry culture at least, the old Palmetto State* is without a 


It was New Year's Eve, and on a sunny island of the Mediter- 
ranean, where stands his palace-cave, the great king, iEolus, had 
assembled all the winds of earth, that they might report their 
wanderings of the past year. 

The cave was filled with the hum of busy voices, but a sud- 
den silence fell over all as, at the bidding of the king, Eurus 
approached the throne and, in a low, gentle voice, began : 

" I fan the lands of India, of Arabia, and of Palestine, and I 
love all these beautiful countries ; Arabia, with its fragrant spices 
and perfumes, and Palestine, with sacred shrine worn smooth by 
the kisses of pilgrim lips. But of the three, I love sunny India 
the best, and sometimes I wander for days through that beautiful 
country. I sweep the cypresses that circle the lovely Taj, and 
listen again and again as they tell of the gentle sleeper. ' She 
was wise and tender,' they whisper, ' and the Emperor called her 


his Light of the World. The echoes of dirges sung over her 
still sigh through our branches.' 

"I play with the rainbow drops of the Ganges as they fall 
from their snowy bed, or toss its waves as it rolls in mighty power 
to the ocean. Once, as night fell, I rested at Patna, on the banks 
of this river. When the sun's last rays glanced from the waters 
a maiden approached, bearing a burning lamp. She placed the 
light on the silvery waves. Up and down I blew it, now plung- 
ing it into deep waters, now raising it towards the stars that 
were appearing in the sky. With clasped hands, the girl stood 
watching until I had borne her treasure round a bend in the river. 
But, as she caught the last glimpse, the flame was still bright, 
and softly she said of her lover, 'He will be true forever." 

"Make way!" cried a rough voice, "I come from the Xorth 
Pole, whence I rushed to meet you." 

"Peace, Boreas," said the king. "Approach and give us, now, 
your story." 

"At the icy pole, where I remained through the summer, I 
piled the drifting snow into huge mountains and hollowed out 
the low valleys. I rushed by the coast of Siberia, freezing all 
with my chill breath. Far off in the ocean I saw the ship Jean- 
nette slowly making her way through the ice, and I whistled 
about the tattered rigging. The men tried in vain to pass the 
icebergs, but day after day the huge masses drifted nearer and 
nearer. The vessel was almost shut in, when the captain gave 
the command, ' Man the life-boats.' Scarcely had the men gained 
them when the ice closed upon the ship with a deadly clasp. 
Then the men tried to steer their rafts through the frozen sea. 
Even I could not bear to see all these brave sailors perish; so I 
did not drive them back from the Siberian coast. One boat, I 
know, reached the shore; for I saw the crew struggling over the 
wild Siberian tundras, guided only by the feeble arctic sun. For 
miles there was nothing but dull, gray moss, into which the wan- 
derers sank deeper at each step. Often they were ready to give 
up; then I would pass by and, with my cold breath, harden the 
dreadful marsh, until with fresh hope the travellers again began 


their journey. When autumn came I set out for southern regions. 
The Texan prairies were covered with a wealth of flowers and 
the ripening corn was turning its golden head to the kindly sun ; 
but I swept over them and they were destroyed. I approached 
a great town, and the people, as they heard the muttering which 
announced my coming, cried : ' The norther ! the norther !' and 
fled to their homes. But were these to protect them from me ? 
In my wrath, I caught up trees as if they had been feathers, and 
cast them into the sea ; the houses tottered and fell, and the air 
was black with ruin. I have crossed the Atlantic, driving the 
black clouds before me and beating the ocean into a thousand bil- 
lows, which foamed in impotent rage. My power extends over 
all the world, as you, great king, have willed it." 

"Such was my command," replied the king, "but remember 
that even we have not all power. See the little island, so small 
that it seems that as if we might crush it ; yet when we approach, 
lo! it is sheltered by reefs, and we may not disturb even the sea 
which surrounds it. But we will now hear the mighty Notus 

From the midst of the many winds, Notus approached the 
throne, and said: 

"I swept, hot and dry, over North Africa, and rolled the 
parched sand into walls which, for a moment, darkened the very 
heavens. In the distance I saw a caravan of merchants resting 
in the shelter of an oasis. The packs were unbound from the 
camels and scattered over the ground, while the beasts content- 
edly munched the grass or drank the cool waters, and the men 
lounged under the shadows of the date palms. Far off I raised 
the scorching sand into high billows ; the men saw it and threw 
themselves on the ground, that they might escape death. On, on 
it came, uprooting the few desert trees and blasting the green 
oases. I towered one moment above the caravan ; then, as I 
passed, I heard the despairing shrieks of the men, the cries of 
the slaves, and the hideous noise of the camels." 

He ceased, and Zephyr approached the throne. The king 
smiled as he saw him, and said, cheerily : " And what has my 
gentle messenger to tell of his wanderings ?" 


" I love light and joyous scenes," he answered. " As I passed 
the green woods in spring the trees bent and rustled to greet me, 
and the little brooks laughed gaily as they caught my whispers, 
on their long journey to the sea. And I gave them a message: 
That they should tell Father Ocean that Zephyr would soon be 
there to tip his waves with fresh white caps. I know the mes- 
sage was delivered ; for it happened that I came the same day 
the stream did. I saw the old ocean stretch out his arms to 
receive the brooklet, and she, all dimpled with smiles, leaped 
towards him ; and, as she lay on his breast, she whispered my 
message. I found the children playing in the forests ; so I tossed 
their pretty curls and blew the roses into their fair cheeks. A 
baby was lying under the tree, almost forgotten by its childish 
nurse, who was too full of sport. The tiny face smiled as I 
kissed it, and the little hands strove to grasp me. I may not go 
far into northern climes, but their people seek me, anel the wan 
faces of the poor sick ones smile at my gentle breath. They go 
home to their dear ones well and happy, but often they come 
again to see me. Everywhere I find sunshine and joy, and every 
one seems glad to welcome Zephyr." 

" My child," replied xEolus, " thou dost not find sunshine ; 
thou bearest it with thee." 


The Roan is situateel in the western part of North Carolina, 
about seventy -two miles from the pleasant little town of Ashe- 
ville and not far from Mt. Mitchell. It is only about one hun- 
dred feet lower than the latter, the highest point east of the Rocky 
Mountains, the Roan being six thousand six hundred and twenty- 
seven feet high, and Mount Mitchell six thousand seven hundred. 
The difference is hardly perceptible, when both are viewed from 
a lower point. The boundary line between North Carolina and 
Tennessee runs exactly through the centre of the mountain, so 
that you can stand with one foot in North Carolina and the other 


in Tennessee. As yet the Roan has no railroad nearer than that 
of Johnson City, over twenty miles away. 

During the war a gentleman sent a description of this moun- 
tain to the Observatory, at Washington, giving its height and 
describing its climate, which is very wonderful. Although there 
is so little difference between the respective heights of Mt. Mitchell 
antl the Roan, the former has a cold, damp, disagreeable climate, 
and very seldom raises its head above the clouds ; while the lat- 
ter has a cool, bracing, moderately dry summer climate and rarely 
hides its majestic peaks from the traveller in the valley. The 
'writer of the account mentioned received for answer, that what he 
described was something never heard of and utterly impossible. 
At the end of the war, a surveyor was sent to inquire more closely 
into the matter, and he discovered the truth of the facts reported, 
together with others equally remarkable. During the last few 
years a hotel has been built and filled to overflowing, and at pres- 
ent the Roan bids fair to become a popular resort. 

The mountain has two elevations or domes, the Bald and the 
Knob. The level between these two is about two miles long and 
a quarter of a mile wide ; in the centre of this plateau is built 
the hotel. The Roan has no romantic legends; there is not so 
much as a Lover's Leap, though a hack did turn over once, and 
throw the driver down into the lower curve of the road. Unfor- 
tunately for romance, the man was not killed, and the passengers 
happened to be walking at the time. 

The sunsets on the Roan may not equal in beauty and grandeur 
those of the surrounding country ; those of Asheville, for instance, 
are much finer. Perhaps this is because the sun is so soon lost 
behind the surrounding mountains, and there is little or no twi- 
light. The sunrises, however, more than compensate for the loss 
of beauty in the sunsets, and by some persons they are considered 
to equal those of Switzerland. To see a perfect sunrise, you must 
get up at about half past four in the morning and go to the Knob. 
Before you lies a foaming sea of clouds. As you gaze upon it 
the dark peaks of the surrounding mountains begin to show them- 
selves like myriads of tiny islands, transforming the restless sea 


into innumerable peaceful lakes. At length the sun i.s seen above 
th<' highest peak. Slowly his rays slant downward, pervading 
the cloud-lakes with many of his own rich tints, and at length 
dispersing them altogether. Before you can realize ir, you are 
standing in the full glory of the new-born day. 

One of the chief occupations of visitors to the Roan is walk- 
ing. To some this may seem a very poor pastime, walking, 
walking, day after day. But try it there, and you will soon 
appreciate the difference between a promenade on flat ground, be 
the weather hot or cold and whether you like it or not, and 
walking at your own sweet will, with steps that spring because 
the air is so bracing that you cannot lag, and with new views at 
almost every turn. At last you are sure that there is nothing 
more to be seen, for that day at least, and are just about to turn 
homeward, when, right in front of you, appears a picture so lovely 
that you are forced to get a little nearer. 

One disadvantage of walks on the Roan is that they all lead 
downward. We must except those right on the top ; but who 
could stay on one little spot when brooks, tiny cataracts, birds, 
and even the flowers, seem to say, "come, come, come, and see all 
we have to show"; and when you have followed them until you 
are really very tired, or something within you says, "Dinner- 
time!" then comes the thought of all the steep way back again. 

On the Roan, as everywhere else, there is sometimes bad 
weather, when in-door amusements have to be resorted to. These 
are few, and the stormy days are long and tiresome; but this is 
to be expected at any mountain resort. 

Every one may not enjoy the Roan. Those searching for natu- 
ral beauties which do not accord with its climate, and those seek- 
ing in-door gaiety, will surely be disappointed. For instance, now 
and then a naturalist will appear, searching for rare butterflies in 
a place where the smallest insect cannot exist ; or, a pretty coquette 
comes with only fancy dresses, light gloves, and low slippers, 
seeking for male admirers of female beauty, which, like butter- 
flies, do not abound on the Roan. These go away disgusted, and 
deserve so to do. People should not look for pears on peach-trees. 
Neither should the visitor at the Roan expect to find the flaming 
insects of the tropics, nor the balls and beaux of Saratoga. 



Go out among the pines on a windy day in March, and listen 
to their voices as they sway to and fro in the wind. You forget 
the outer world as you go farther into the bosom of the forest. 
Under your feet is the dead pine-straw, and above your head the 
dark foliage of the trees, through which, now and then, can be 
caught glimpses of white clouds driven along the sky. A stray 
sunbeam occasionally finds its way through the thick covering 
overhead, to cheer some tiny flower that has dared to show its 
head above the earth. No sound is heard but the wailing of the 
pines, or the fall of some aged tree of the forest. 

Here you know that you are free from the cares of life, and 
hither you have come to dream of bygone days. Your heart 
once more bounds with the hope that then filled it, and the pres- 
ent and the future are forgotten. You are once more a girl, 
thoughtless and happy. Slowly comes to your mind the remem- 
brance of a walk taken with your sisters on just such a day, 
many years ago. Again their voices are heard ringing out in the 
wood, and you see them as they clustered round you to listen to 
some wild story, or rode on the body of some fallen tree. 

Far in the forest, overhung with small pines and cedars, is a 
dark ravine, so deep that you start back affrighted after you have 
once glanced over the edge. This ravine reminds you of a day 
on which you ventured so near that the earth gave way, and you 
would have fallen but for some twigs hanging overhead. You 
caught at these, and held on to them till your sisters came to your 
rescue. The same feeling that you had then comes over you now, 
and the recollection of the ravine fills you with horror. 

You wander farther and farther from the present, till you are 
recalled to it by the gathering darkness. The voices of your 
sisters are heard no more, but in their stead the sad moaning of 
the pines. 



It was a breezy autumn night. The tree-tops swayed in the 
wind and sighed a lone farewell to the little leaves that would 
soon go where they would not be known. Down in the garden 
the faded bushes tossed like uneasy dreamers, and up in the sky 
long tresses of clouds floated across the moon. 

Way up on the sill of a little gable-window was set a child's 
work-box, which rocked like a tiny fairy castle, ready to topple 
over. Asleep on the small white bed behind the flapping muslin 
curtain, was the little owner of the work-ease, her tired arms 
flung over her head, and her hands wound in her soft hair. Was 
she dreaming of the beautiful mud-pies she had made in the 
morning, or of the gorgeous doll's-hat and feathers she had put 
together, or of the feast she had given to Prince, her dog, and 
old black Betty-Ann? 

There was a sudden lull outside, and the silence was broken by 
a sharp voice on the inside, coming from the little work-case. 

"I am tired of this life; cut, cut, work, work, all day long. 
Yesterday hacking at tin soldiers, to-day jagging out pasteboard 
girls, great rows of them; to-morrow digging in the dirt to till 
doll-wheel-barrows. I am getting dull, worn out, and miserable." 

"No such thing," squeaked the Tape-Xeedle, "You are the 
brightest little Scissors I ever saw. (She had never seen any 
others.) Just think of me, crawling through narrow hems, being 
punched in at the head and pushed and jerked all the dark way 
through. See how patient I am." 

"Don't quarrel," said the Thimble, her little pock-marked face 
quite pale iif the moonlight. "I think it is very nice to be use- 
ful. How many pretty gowns and dresses we have helped to make, 
and just think what a nice house we all have to live in, all three 
sitting here to rest in these soft velvet chairs, so cosy when night 

comes on." 

Just then a sudden gust of wind sent the little castle down on 
to the ground. The Scissors landed in a bed of dried leaves in 


the eaves-gutter. " No more work for me !" he giggled, " and I 
am babes in the wood now." Down, down, came the Thim- 
ble, and down, down, came the Tape-Needle into the garden 
below. A thorn-bush stretched out its fingers and caught the 
Thimble. " What luck!" thought she. " If I had tumbled on 
to a stone I might have made a hole in my head." 

" Oh, you are there, are you ?" feebly squeaked the Tape- 
Needle, who was standing up stiffly in the garden-walk. " Now, 
who would have thought it ! one minute on velvet cushions, and 
the next down here in the dirt !" 

" You have an eye, dear Tape-Needle," interrupted the anxious 
Thimble, " do you see Scissors anywhere ?" 

"You had better ask if my back is hurt. I believe it is." 
Then down fell the Tape-Needle amid the dead stems and grasses, 
and said not another word, good or bad, to the Thimble, who 
passed a lonely night, and in the morning her pale face was all 
wet with tears. 

With the sun rose the little maiden who slept high up in the 
gable. She stood in the window, tying on her little skirts and 
scattering crumbs for the birds, some of which flew down into 
the spout and touched the very toes of the Scissors, stretched out 
under the maple leaves. "Where is my wort-tase, an' my ole 
scissors, an' my buful fimble?" she suddenly cried. "Dey must 
all have blew out de winner, in de night." The little maid looked 
east, and she looked west. No work-case. With her hair stream- 
ing and her dress buttoned all awry, she flew down the winding 
stairs to see if her treasure lay underneath the window. Alas ! 
yes; but all in fragments; no Thimble, no Scissors. She stamped 
her tiny foot. The Tape-Needle was just underneath, and she 
destroyed its one dull eye and never knew it. The Thimble 
nodded to her from the bush. She never saw T it, but it was found 
by a little poor girl who was passing through the yard, and who 
did not know any better than to keep it. She took it home and 
prized it very much, and the little Thimble had a happy home, 
though never again a velvet cushion. As for the Scissors, they 


lay for a long time under the leaves, so long that they were quite 
tired of being "babes in the wood," and they would have been 
delighted to be employed again. 

One day, after a long while, the gardener came to clear the spout 
of leaves, and thus the Scissors were released at last. The oar- 
dener held them up at the little maid peering down at him from 
the gable-window. 

"Oh, myole Scissors! Such black, horrid tings. Frow 'em 

And this was the end of the discontented Scissors. 


Leipzig, June 18th, 1882. 
My Dear E.: — The Prufungs have now for some time been 
past, and the Abend-Unterhaltungs have resumed their sway, 
though by no means with the interest they had before those Prii- 
fungs came and put the nose of the Abends, so to speak, quite 
out of joint, for we have now, of course, heard the best players, 
and don't care much to tune our ears to the hearing of the inferior 
powers. I, therefore, did not lament when, owing to attending 
the theatre last Fridav night, I had to miss one of the Abends. 
I have had two of the greatest treats possible, namely, the seeing 
and hearing two of Wagner's fine operas, "Rienzi," and the 
"Fliegender Hollander"; but somehow or other, my pen will not 
write about it, so I will only tell you that I enjoyed them both 
immensely, and am storing them up in my mind to tell you about, 
one of these days. I want especially to tell H. the wonderful, 
supernatural story of the " Flying Dutchman," if she is as fond 

"*Tlie Wagnerian Cyclus lias been brought so prominently before the Ameri- 
can public this winter, that we have departed from the usual order of our 
contributor's letters, and selected one presenting her opinions of the great com- 
poser and his works. — Ed. 


of the marvelous as she and I used to be. In spite, however, of 
my liking for things of that kind, and the great interest and fas- 
cination of the story and music, I am not sure but that I like 
"Bienzi" the better of the two. It was so grand to feel oneself 
transported back into those old Roman times of which one has 
read so much, and to see enacted before your very eyes the noble 
and tragic life of the great Rienzi, made into a reality by the 
vivid and faithful representation, and exalted into a glorious ideal 
by the lofty and beautiful music. The chorus of the soldiers 
and people just before going out to battle, is the finest, most spir- 
ited, possible, and penetrates you with the very spirit and valor 
with which they go forth to conquer. And nothing could be 
more beautiful than Rienzi's prayer for blessing from above upon 
his efforts for his country ; or nobler and more inspiring than his 
attitude and expression when, beaten down by his enemies, for- 
saken by his friends, repudiated and scorned by the very people 
for whom he had given his life, he seems to strain toward heaven, 
and with uplifted voice and arm, exclaims, "Noch giebt es ein 

The opera was finely given, the parts well assigned, and Herr 
Lederer, the Rienzi, has not only a magnificent voice and fine 
presence, but is an accomplished actor. The whole of this Wag- 
ner Cyclus will be extraordinarily well given, as the director of 
this theatre is one of the best suited for Wagner's operas; and 
as he, with the greater part of this troupe, leave Leipzig at the 
end of this month, he will naturally desire to go on° with flying- 

Wagner has written a grand new opera, said to surpass all his 
others in beauty and fineness of workmanship, which is to be 
brought out very shortly in Bayreuth, Bavaria, under his own 
direction, and with the very finest artists Europe can furnish for 
the rendering of it. " Parsifal " is its name, and what a furore 
it, or rather, its anticipation, is making, you can scarcely imagine 
— even a ticket for standing-places will bring, I hear, thirty 
marks, or so. *.-*.** * * 

I have seen, in the last week and a half, " Tristran and Isolde," 


the " Meister-singer von Nuremberg;," and the " Walkure," which 
is the first of the " Xibelungen," and have been very much pleased, 
indeed quite carried away with delight at the beauty of some of 
them. I am going to-night, in company with Mr. and Mrs. 
Brammer, to see "Siegfried," the second of the Xibelumren. 
Most of Wagner's opera's are very long, beginning at half past 
six and lasting until half past ten or eleven ; but they are won- 
derfully well given by this company, the orchestra being our 
own glorious Gewandhaus Orchestra, and the conductor of the 
theatre being Seydl, whom Wagner himself praises as the very 
best interpreter of his music; the scenery, too, is exceedingly 
good, so that it is a great treat for me to be able to attend them. 
Although there are some little things in them that I do not like, 
and the ever fault-finding critics may pick flaws in them because 
of their length, etc., I don't see how any one can see them with- 
out being filled with admiration for the poet-musician, Wagner, 
and the wonderful music he has created. I have never seen any 
operas that can be compared with them, except Beethoven's 
"Fidelio," which stands, in my mind, alone, on a lofty height 
unapproached by any other. It is so nice, too, that Wagner 
writes his own texts, which, unlike most others, in themselves 
rubbish and hung together onlv by the music and acting, are really 
complete and finely written. I was very fortunate indeed, in get- 
ting, as I did, tickets for the whole Cyclus beforehand, for the 
house is crowded every time, and those who delaved buying their 
tickets until late, failed to get any. Two of the Cyclus, Taun- 
hauser and the Rheingold, I was obliged to miss, as they were 
given on Sundays; but, as I had already seen the former, it did 
not matter so much. After this the theatre closes for a month, 
and then goes into the hands of a new director. 

July 10. — Now, let me go back to last week's events. The 
Fourth of July Banquet to which I looked forward with such 
shivers, went off in a most creditable style, and to me personallv 
was also exceedingly pleasant. I drove in a droschky with 
Misses S. and H., to a large hall in the building on the prome- 
nade where the festivities were to take place. As we entered the 


building, the way was pointed out to us by ushers in dress-coats 
and white cravats. At the door, we were met by gentlemen who 
took us into the room and showed us to our seats at the table, which 
were marked with our names. The hall was prettily decorated 
with flags of different nations draped around the wall, among 
which the "red, white and blue," of course, had a prominent 
place. The tables extended around three sides of the large room, 
and in front of the Consul's seat at the middle table, was the 
" Ship of State," with our flag waving gayly from its prow. Col. 
Montgomery was formerly a naval officer with Admiral Farragut, 
I believe, and he was imposing in his beautiful naval uniform 
with its gold cords and tassels; with his courteous and easy 
manners, he made the best presiding officer you can imagine. 
Mrs. Montgomery was to have been there and received the guests, 
thus making things even more pleasant; but, just a few days 
before, she had received the sad news of her mother's death, so 
of course, was not present. I was very pleasantly placed between 
Dr. Mendelssohn, a New Yorker studying medicine here, whom 
I had met at the English Queen's birthday affair, and a pleasant 
young American, also student in the University, and we had a 
very lively time of it. Not far from me were my friends Misses 
H. and S., so that I could nod and smile at them. 

Well, first there was a grand dinner (the affair began at six 
o'clock) of numerous and varied courses, which I will not attempt 
to describe, and during which, we at our end of the table, chatted 
very pleasantly. Two German gentlemen who sat opposite me, 
introduced themselves, which is, I am told, the fashion at such 
assemblies, and which was certainly much nicer than sitting stu- 
pidly opposite one another all the evening without speaking. 
After the beautifully-fashioned ice-cream had been mercilessly 
hacked to pieces and devoured by the American ignorers of the 
aesthetic, began the toast-drinking and speech-making. The Con- 
sul-General from Berlin, and another consul to some German 
city, were there, and there was a number of German guests, the 
burgomaster of Leipzig, one of the learned professors from the 
great Leipzig University, and the Director of our Conservatorium, 


Reineckc, and each took his part in replying to the toasts, such 
as " The German Empire," " The University," etc., etc., some in 
German and some in English. The consul from Berlin gave us 
a very good answer to the toast " The President of the United 
States," though with an accent much too pronouncedly Yankee 
for my taste. Of course, there had to be some blot on the even- 
ing, so it came in the shape of the remarks, or rather swagger- 
ing oration, of the other consul in reply to the toast "American 
Citizenship." The English are only too apt to accuse us of 
"spread-eagleism," and this speech certainly gave them occasion 
to laugh at us. I heard others say, and am afraid it was true, 
that the poor fellow (the speaker) had had too much wine. Of 
course, the English Queen was toasted, and the answer thereto 
was made by one of the quite large number of English and Scotch 
present. The banquet was not declared to be at an end until 
half past eleven, winding up with the toast to "Woman," and a 
very pretty and eloquent answer from Dr. G. 

If all American officials were as worthy of their post, at 
least in having the cultivation and refinement of a thorough 
gentleman (of course, I don't know further than that) as the con- 
sul here is, our country would indeed have cause to be proud of 
her representatives. I don't know when I have seen a gentle- 
man whom I admire so much as I do Col. Montgomery. He 
has, though, the look of a painfully delicate man, or rather, of 
a man who has gone through a great deal of suffering, mental or 
physical, which has left its indelible stamp upon his features. 


She was a small, pale, thin child, just six years old; her large 
azure-blue eyes looked very sad, and her blanched lips never had 
a smile upon them. Mounted on a high straw chair, at the foot 
of a long table where were heaped up gloves and thread mittens, 
she was busying herself in laying them off in pairs, then tying 


them together in a row with a coarse red thread, that they might 
be sent to the dyer's. It was not, to all appearances, a fatiguing 
occupation, yet, at eight o'clock in the evening, when her day was 
finished, the poor little one's back ached sadly; she must have 
paired and tied one hundred dozen since eight in the morning, 
and for that she was paid six sous. 

Can you imagine this poor little being confined all day long in 
a shop where twenty work-women are crowded together in the 
dense atmosphere, scolded by this one, treated harshly by that, 
the drudge of them all? If she raised her eyes, or spoke, or 
stopped working a minute, the forewoman would exclaim, in her 
rough voice: 

"Come, lazy child, words are of no use; look at your own 
work and don't watch us, you little spy." 

The child would drop her head, and her small hands would 
work with an astonishing rapidity. 

"You see there how much the sluggard could do in a day," 
continued the forewoman. 

Oh, mothers! you who require so little from children of this 
age, you who fear that a little reading or writing will tire your 
charming babies, who think it natural that they should do noth- 
ing, and should be like birds flitting from tree to tree, you smile, 
and say : 

" This is a story made up at pleasure." 

No ! it is a true story ; Nanine has lived, I knew her and have 
spoken to her. I can still hear the sound of her voice, sweet as 
some indefinable harmony which passes through the air. Nor 
was her lot an exception ; it was that of most poor children, little 
waifs, who never know the tenderness of home, who have no 
playthings, nor any of the pleasures which seem to you absolutely 

Their parents have but one aim — to feed them ; as for cloth- 
ing, that is a mere trifle. When the wife is skillful and hard- 
working, she easily finds the means of covering the children's 
backs in her own and her husband's cast-off clothes. But food 
and lodging (such as they are!), they are what take up every 


thought ; they are the constant anxiety, the dark .spot always seen 
on the horizon! And the poor are only too happy if sickness 
does not make its abode at their hearth. 

Mile. Reine spoke harshly to Nanine because she herself had 
been thus spoken to when a child. The poor have no childhood; 
being always badly clothed, they are awkward, without grace, 
without charm. They fall into two distinct classes: the weak 
and sickly, whom death cuts down, and the strong, whom priva- 
tions render even more robust, and who become well hardened, 
and capable, according to their instincts, either of much good or 
just as much evil. 

Our poor little Nanine was the fifth child of Jean Larue, a 
elumsy workman, and Jeanne Curtois, a washerwoman. By 
working like negroes, the couple earned four francs fifty centimes. 
Take away Sundays, feast-days and holidays, and days when there 
was no work, and you will see what there was to clothe, feed and 
house five children, as well as father and mother. It is not 
astonishing, then, that as soon as a child could walk alone the 
parents sought to make it useful. The eldest child, a girl twelve 
years old, was apprenticed to an ironer ; two boys came next, one 
aged ten years, the other nine; they turned the machinery for the 
workmen on the Jacquart frames, and gained by this hard labor 
only a franc together ! Then came a little child of eight sum- 
mers; she helped make shuttles for the silk weavers, and received 
eight sous a day. Together with Xaniue's six sous, the children 
earned one franc seventy centimes a day, and this, added to the 
four francs fifty centimes of their parents, gave a sum of six 
francs twenty centimes. 

But one day, when occupied in pulling down a house, Jean 
Larue fell from the third story. They carried him to the Hotel- 
Dieu, but he breathed his last before it was reached. 

Jeanne wept for her husband, for he did not ill-treat her. 
Then, with terror, she asked herself how she could manage to 
support her children. The neighbors came in and attempted to 
console her thus: 


" There, now, Jeanne, you must not grieve so much ! After 
all, the children are no longer small ; each year they will become 
stronger and earn more." 

Then they brought coffee mixed with chicory, and brown sugar 
to sweeten it; the concierge prepared the beverage, and they drank 
all round while eulogizing the deceased. Then each went home 
to think about her own misery. 

The next day, Jeanne, having put a piece of black crepe on 
her bonnet — it was the only mourning her poverty would allow 
her — went to la plate, as they call the washerwomen's boats at 
Lyons. She could work no more — that was impossible — but 
she cried all day, and at supper made each one's share smaller ; 
of course her own was the smallest. If high living and dissipa- 
tion weaken the grief of the rich, privations and work do the 
same with the poor. Six months after the death of Jean Larue, 
the little family had taken up its usual course, and struggled for 
life as best it could. 

At the moment when our story opens, Madame Zaphet, 
mistress of the house where Nanine was working, entered the 
work-room. She was a small woman, rather stout, but tightly 
laced, for she had yet some pretensions to a good figure; she had 
not at all a pleasant face, her mouth was hard, and her blotched 
and pimpled cheeks gave her a common air which was added to 
by a disagreeable voice and a very marked Lyonese accent. With 
one quick glance, she took in the whole shop where silence had 
fallen as if by magic. Finding nothing to criticise and yet wish- 
ing to vent her ill-humor on some one, she said sharply to Nanine, 
who was getting down from her high chair to pick up the strand 
of coarse thread she had just let fall : 

" Awkward child ! you are never still ! can you not pay atten- 
tion to your thread? What, you have done only this pile since 
this morning? There are scarcely thirty dozen, and it is two 
o'clock ! I warn you that if this evening the hundred are not 
ready, you will not be paid ! 

" Mile. Heine, you do not see that she works !" 


"Yes, Madame, I am always after her. I am incessantly tell- 
ing her to attend to her work," replied the forewoman in a vexed 

"Well, she will have to be dismissed, that is all !" 

" Oh, Madame, let me stay, I beg you ; I will work hard ; do 
not send me away! Mamma has already so much sorrow that I 
cannot bear to worry her more. Forgive me !" 

And the little one clasped her hands and looked at Madame 
Zaphet with such entreating eyes that the latter, now ashamed of 
her severity, replied more gently : 

" Well, we'll see. I am very willing to try you once more ; 
but at the very first complaint, I turn you away." 

Thereupon she walked majestically out of the room. 

" You heard, my girl ? Then toe the mark," said the fore- 
woman, shaking her finger at her. 

Nanine was trembling all over; she was very much afraid of 
Mademoiselle Reine, knowing how little kindness she had had 
to expect from her since the day when Madame Zaphet had called 
the child from the room, ostensibly to give her some sugar-plums, 
but in reality to question her about what the working-girls were 
saying and doing in her absence. 

The child, who had never been placed in such a position before, 
answered all her questions truthfully. One is not very diplo- 
matic at six. 

Madame Zaphet, in a fit of ill-humor, which was habitual with 
her, had severely scolded the women ; on this account poor Xanine 
had become their bete noire. She had but one friend in the house; 
that was the errand-man, good Noel. Unfortunately, he was not 
always there, part of his day being spent in running on errands ; 
but whenever he had a spare moment he always came and helped 
the child with her work. He was very careful not to say any- 
thing if, in counting the pairs, he did not always find them 
arranged in good order, but made haste to put them into his large 
basket to be taken to the dyer's. He was a father, this good man. 
He had a daughter, and, thanks to his situation, which brought 
him fifteen hundred francs, not counting New Year's gifts, he 


had been able to bring her up and even to have her well educated 
for one in her station. He often thought, when he looked at 
Nanine, how very unhappy it would have made him to be forced 
to send his child to work with others. His indignation was spe- 
cially aroused when the two sons of Madame Zaphet would burst 
into the shop, jumping, crying, and laughing, all at once, and 
carrying on so as to make the very house shake. Their presence 
naturally distracted the attention of Nanine, who was just a year 
younger than Paul, the smaller child. On these occasions Made- 
moiselle Reine would scold poor Nanine so, that once Noel had 
said to her : 

" You had better complain to Madame of the noise and uproar 
of her sons, than scold Nanine because she lifts her head to look 
at them ; she is only six years old, anyway. I thought you 
kinder, more just, Mademoiselle Reine." 

" Mind your own affairs. I take no lessons from you. Instead 
of helping that lazy little thing, you had better do your own 

" Ah ! but look here, you weary me, Mademoiselle Reine. I 
am not under your rule. You have nothing to do with my work." 

" Really, you forget that in Madame's absence it is I who com- 
mand. I am mistress here." 

" Oh ! mistress ! of your dinner when you get it !" 

" Impertinent man !" 

" What in the world is the matter ?" said Madame Zaphet, 
drawn in by the dispute. 

" Noel is insulting me ; he pretends that I ill-treat that little 
lazy-bones,whereas it is always me you are scolding on account of 

" Madame, I say merely that I think it would be better not to 
let Master Alexander and Master Paul play in the work-shop," 
said Noel, " it distracts the older ones, much more the little girl." 

Madame Zaphet, not being in a very bad humor that day, con- 
tented herself with telling every one to be quiet, that she would 
have no more discussion ; then she kissed her dear " pets," as she 
called her sons, sent them to play in her room, and order was 
again restored. 

ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 87 

But from that day Xanine was doomed by Mademoiselle Heine, 
who thought she must, at any price, get rid of this subject of 
discord. The occasion soon presented itself, and she seized it 

Little Paul had a plaything which he prized above everything 
else, because he could beat it and stamp on it without breaking it 
or hurting it in any way ; this w r as a large doll, which he called 

Xanine, who had never had, even in her dreams, such a thing 
as a doll, took great pity on this one, seeing it so badly treated, 
and soon felt a motherly tenderness for it. 

Without doubt, motherliness is the first sentiment awakened in 
a little girl; she must coddle, she must care for and love some- 
thing, an animal or a piece of wood to which her imagination 
lends life. Xanine was the youngest in the family, and had 
always been her sisters' doll ; but she herself, poor little one, had 
never had anything nor anv one on which to lavish the tender- 
ness with which her heart overflowed ! And now, she expended 
it all on Cadiche, although it was the most hideous scarecrow you 
can imagine. To Xanine, however, it was the eighth wonder of 
the world. 

One day, when it w r as freezing cold, Master Paul took it into 
his head to put Cadiche into the trough of the pump at the 
entrance to the hall. Xanine, going to wash her hands after her 
frugal breakfast, saw x the object of her love in this piteous plight. 
To seize Cadiche, hug her in her arms, and run to cover her 
with her little cloak, was done booner than I can write it down. 

"Stay there nice and warm, my darling," she said. "This 
evening, when I go away, I will put you in Madame Zaphet's 
arm-chair, where you will sleep quietly, far from that naughty 

Paul, who makes you so miserable !" 

She kissed Cadiche very tenderly, shut the door of the ward- 
robe where Mademoiselle Reine, as well as all the work-women, 

hung up their hats and shawls, and then went to her work. 

The forewoman, being in a very bad humor, scolded the child 

more and more, saying that everything she had done that day 

would have to be done over. 


Nanine bore it all patiently without excusing herself, which 
soon exasperated Mademoiselle Reine; she went to complain to 
Madame, who came herself to criticise Nanine's work. It hap- 
pened, as it always does in such cases, that Madame Zaphet did 
not find the work so bad as it had been represented to her; she 
only scolded the child a little, telling her to pay more attention 
to what she was doing. This was not what Mademoiselle Reine 
had expected ; anger rankled within her, and she threw at Nanine 
a look of real hate. 

At dinner-time, Madame Zaphet asked Mademoiselle Reine to 
go to the school for her sons, as Noel had not yet returned from 
his errands. 

On coming back, Mademoiselle Reine was beaming; she, who 
did not like children, declared those of her patron charming. Paul 
commenced his usual hubbub in the shop. She was all smiles to 
him; she even predicted that he would have a brilliant mind. 
Then they went to dinner. 




In a lovely highland valley, which lies at an elevation of 2,717 
feet, and under the shelter of the Balsam Mountains, is an 
attractive hotel. Two main buildings and a small cottage rise 
from a lawn of several acres, green with turf and shaded by large 
oaks. Love's View, a small mountain in the rear, commands a 
charming prospect of the grounds, and of Richland Creek, flow- 
ing at the foot of the hill upon which the hotel is situated. 
Small branches of this stream cross the grounds at short intervals, 
keeping the grass always fresh, and giving great pleasure to the 
children, who wade in them at all hours. 


To the right of Love's View is another hill, from whose side 
a cold, sparkling spring falls into a rocky basin. The water is 
strongly impregnated with sulphur, and highly valued for its 
medicinal properties. 

Many years ago this spring was discovered by some moun- 
taineers, but it was not until 1877 that it became a resort for the 
public. Waynesville, the nearest village, is scarcely a mile dis- 
tant. Here may be found stores, a post-office and several pretty 
churches. It is the seat of perhaps one of the richest agricul- 
tural counties of the west. 

The first thing which strikes the visitor is the extreme repose 
of the place. Even in the midst of the season when the hotel is 
crowded, it preserves the very same quiet. The chief amusement 
is riding. Everv one rides or learns to ride. There are two 
livery stables from which you can get good and safe horses at low 

Once or twice a week, parties make trips to the neighboring 
mountains. They start at about eight o'clock in the morning, 
and return at six or seven in the afternoon ; sometimes they stay 
away a night or so, if they are brave enough to try "camping 
out." Lickstone Mountain, so called because of a large stone at 
the top on which the cattle are salted, is the most frequented of 
the mountains around the Springs. The ascent is very steep, and 
has to be made entirely on horseback. In one place the traveller 
must dismount and lead his horse for two or three hundred yards, 
but at the summit all fatigue and trouble are forgotten in the 
grand view. As far as the eye can reach, mountains, myriad in 
number and magically varied in shape and color, rise one above 
another. To the south-east is a glimpse of Pisgah's blue peaks, 
and to the west the Cowee and Nantahala ranges extend almost 
to the Tennessee line. Below in the valley, Richland Creek 
winds in and out like a silver thread, encircling the Springs. 

Among the many amusements during the day, there was one 
even more popular than riding; this Mas lawn tennis. Last sum- 
mer it was quite new at the Springs, and, of course, every one 
was anxious to play. So, at ten o'clock all the young people 


would assemble on the tennis-ground and play until dinner, after 
which they played until nearly time for supper. Though tennis 
has long been a standard English game, it is comparatively new 
in our Southern States. The game itself is easy enough to under- 
stand ; but the playing is a different matter. The first point is 
how to serve. There are three kinds of service, the underhand, 
the overhand, and high service. For underhand, you hold the 
racket in the middle of the handle, and stooping, drop the ball, 
striking it with the racket full-faced. The overhand service is 
made with the racket held nearly on a level with the shoulder; 
turning the racket, you drop the ball, cutting rather than striking 
it. The high service is very much like this. The ball is thrown 
up nearly on a level with the right shoulder, and struck by the 
right side of the racket. There are eight principal strokes. Of 
these the fore-overhand and the fore-underhand are generally 
used. The back-underhand is also a very important stroke. 
The fourth is the back stroke, and is made with the racket behind 
the back. It is very difficult, and seldom used except in "show" 
play. Tennis, when played well, is a very graceful game, but 
exactly the reverse if played badly. In learning to play, it is a 
great advantage to have the wrist supple and active, as a good 
stroke requires smooth, quick action. The tennis costumes are 
very picturesque; they consist of a short, bright skirt, and a 
blouse waist. Sometimes a tennis apron is added. The shoes 
which are most worn in playing are of white or colored canvas, 
with corrugated rubber toes. Every one should have his own 
racket, and in choosing it he should be careful to have its weight 
in proportion to his strength. A tennis ball is a very important 
part of the outfit. Covered balls are used in dry weather, but it 
is best to use rubber ones when the grass is wet. The ground at 
the Springs was indeed a pretty sight ; the white net and the 
bright dresses of the players contrasted well with the dark green 
grass ; large trees cast their shadows on the turf; a few yards off 
Richland Creek rushed merrily along, and in the distance were 
the blue mountains. 


At night the ciders play quiet games of whist, while the young 

people sit on the moonlit balconies or dance to the inspiring strains 
of the " Blue Danube." Nearly every one retires early, and after 
twelve o'clock silence reigns supreme. 

On Sunday there is always divine service at "Grace Church," 
in Waynesville. The choicest woods of the mountains have been 
levied on for the erection of this little church. It is dedicated to 
the memory of the late Bishop's granddaughter, and perhaps its 
most beautiful feature is the east window. This is of exquisite 
stained glass, and casts a light as gentle as the life of the one in 
whose memory it Mas made. In the afternoon the Sunday-school 
at Mica Dale is the principal attraction. This is about three 
miles from the Springs, and receives its name from the mines of 
mica close at hand. It is under the management of a Xorthern 
lady, and consists entirely of the mountain people, who come in 
great numbers to hear the service and receive instruction. It is 
very interesting to listen to their answers and questions, but I 
must say their singing is rather ludicrous. 

I have neglected to speak of the trout-fishing. A few miles 
up Richland Creek, and in Pigeon River, the most fastidious 
fisherman will find ample scope for his craft; but Catalooche is 
the place for a true fisherman. This is about twenty miles from 
Waynesville, and the trip can be easily made in a day. Game, 
too, from birds to deer, and occasional bears, are found in these 

These many attractions bid fair to render the Springs very 
popular with pleasure-seekers, while the bracing air and delight- 
ful water must win them fame among health resorts. 



Rain ! rain ! rain ! Would it never stop ? It seemed as if the 
clouds must have been exhausted long ago, but still it kept on 
raining as it had done for more than a week. Even the ducks 
had had enough of the chill November downpour, and retired to 
the chicken-coop to join their lamentations with those of the dis- 
consolate cocks and hens. No wonder Toby, the donkey, was 
tired of the close stable, and found the old pony dull company. 
He longed for the green fields, where he had been so happy all 
summer. Poor, silly Toby! He did not know that fragrant 
summer had fled, and winter, with his chilly breath, was close at 
hand. And then he had taken a notion into his head that out- 
side of that particular inclosure the sun was shining, the bees 
humming, the flowers blooming, and everything just as he remem- 
bered it to have been the past summer. Now, when silly people 
and donkeys get an idea into their heads, it is generally very hard 
to get it out again; and Master Toby, having once entertained 
the notion of wandering at will 

"Through the sweet green fields 
Where the water-lilies grow, 
And the violet and lily 
Are waving to and fro," 

determined at the first opportunity to slip out and try his fortune. 

The opportunity came sooner than he expected. John, the 
stable boy, came in to bring this same dissatisfied Toby some 
clean straw, and, in going out, left the door open. "Now's my 
time!" thought Toby. No sooner said than done. He was 
unhindered by halter or bridle, and, deliberately turning his back 
on the comfortable stable, he made for the door. 

"Ah, this is pleasant!" he exclaimed, as he felt the damp, 
misty rain. Not that he thought so, but having succeeded in 
getting his own way, he was not going to own himself in the 
wrong. " Well," he went on talking to himself for want of 


better company, "I don't see anything of the sun and flowers 

vet, and oh, how I want a bite of fresh clover! But never mind, 
I know I shall find everything delightful when I get to the 
meadow; and I'd better trot a little faster, or night will be on me 
before I know it. Then, running will warm me, too," he added ; 
"not that I'm cold at all, but after being cooped up in that hot 
stable, I might catch cold." 

On he trotted, past the farm-house, past the barn. " I must 
be nearly there," he told himself over and over again, but still it 
grew darker, and no pleasant green meadows nor bright sunshine 
did he see. The rain fell faster and faster, and the ground was 
very boggy when at last he stopped. 

" It seems to me this is the place where the meadow used to 
be," he said; "and that certainly looks like the old maple, but 
where are the sunshine and flowers '?" 

The prospect was not encouraging — damp marshes, with here 
and there a forlorn-looking tree. Toby, like many another who 
has set out after green pastures and sunshine, found himself 

"Through swampy, boggy marsh-lands, 
Where dirty water lies, 
And naked trees point dismally 
To the gray November skies." 

" I wish I had waited till morning," he said, and splash ! he 
was up to his knees in a deep hole. Just then, "Too-hoo! 
too-hoo!" sounded above his head. "Oh, dear!" said Toby, "I 
wish I hadn't come at all, I do. 'Twas much nicer in summer." 

All night he wandered about, and the gray dawn found him 
cold, wet and stiff. " Xow I can see to go home," said he, and 
no sooner had he said it than he heard a bark and saw something 
that made his heart glad. Xo other than Dash, the watch-dog, 
was running straight toward him. 

© © 

"Well," said Dash, "where have you been?" 
"Taking a walk," responded Toby. 

Dash disdained to answer, but turning round, led the way to 
the farm, and Toby meekly followed. They had not gone far 

7 J m J 


before the rain, which had stopped for a few minutes, came down 
in good earnest. Fortunately, they were near a shed, under which 
they took shelter. Down came the rain, faster and faster. 

" Come on," said Dash, " there's no use waiting for this to 
stop ;" and he started out. But Toby was cold, and didn't care 
particularly for any more water. So at mention of once more 
facing the storm, his natural disposition made itself known. 

"Aren't you coming?" inquired Dash. 

"No," replied Toby; and Dash, having learned by long 
experience that Toby's no meant no, quietly trotted oif. 

The rain stopped soon after, but Toby, expecting it to begin 
again every minute, did not venture out. He waited about an 
hour, and then, as it did not rain, he started for home. He 
had not gone far before the clouds became dark, and the air filled 
with floating white things. Thicker and thicker they came, till 
the whole air was one whirling white mass; before he had gone 
half a mile, Toby was floundering in the first snow of the season. 
Toiling on, he at length reached the stable-door. It was fast 
closed, and poor, worn-out Toby had only strength enough for 
one long bray. But John had been listening for that sound ever 
since the day before, and he was soon on the spot to open the 
door, rub the numb, trembling limbs, and give the wanderer a 
good supper. 

Well, what next? Nothing, only Toby didn't go to the 
meadow again that winter. 


My poultry farm is far down at the end of the orchard. It 
is built of laths ten feet high and four inches wide. These are 
nailed closely together to keep the young chickens from stealing 
out when the ground is covered with snow, and leaving their 
poor mothers to fret themselves to nothing because they can't 
follow. The enclosure is forty feet by sixty. About one-third 
is covered, to keep out the rain and shelter the nests and roosts. 


At the opposite end are two doors. The smaller one has a lad- 
der leading to it, and is used only by the poultry, when they come 
to roost at night, and when they come out in the morning. The 
large one is onlv used when I have new sand hauled there once a 
week, and when the eggs have to be taken out. My hens num- 
ber about one hundred, and they belong to these four breeds: 
Plymouth Rock, Brahma, Spanish Red-comb, and Shanghai. 
Then I have about half as many ducks, turkeys and guineas. 
They all live very peaceably together, only occasionally the gob- 
bler asserts his rights in a very imperious manner. I feed them 
regularly three times a day, and they are very fond of me, and 
follow me every time I step out. 

One year I had real bad luck with my hens. First, they caught 
the cholera from a poor little chicken which came to pay us a 
visit from somewhere. But we cured them by mixing some lve 
in their food for a few weeks. Then they caught the gapes, after 
I was sure they weren't going to have any more diseases. Ann, 
my little maid, found a cure for this, which was to tickle their 
throats with a straw until a worm crawled out, and then they felt 

I have to erect scarecrows to keep off the owls, and a gun 
every now and then to frighten hawks. 

Every spring I send about five hundred fowls to market. I 

always have a sale for them, because they are the finest in the 


" Ilickety Picketv, my black lien, 
She lays good eggs for gentlemen, 
Gentlemen come every day to see 
What my black hen doth lay." 

So sang Mother Goose, and I have proved the story true, for 
among my last new stock of hens was a genuine Hickety Picketv, 
a beautiful Spanish Red-comb, as jetty black as she could be. 
She was au excellent setter, so I always gave her duck eggs to 
hatch, as they take longer than hen's ecrtrs. This time she had a 

' » © ©© 

nice new nest, with fresh straw and a dozen duck eggs. At the 
end of the proper time she came out with about half as many as 


she ought to have. So I took the little things, which were like 
so many balls of yellow down, away from her and sent her back 
to finish setting on the other eggs, while I kept the ducks in a 
basket by the kitchen fire. When I gave them to her again, 
there never was such a delighted creature. By-and-by these 
twelve began to "smell a rat," as the saying is, and soon they 
were swimming gaily on the pond in the front yard, to the no 
small annoyance of "Black Hickety Pickety." She fluttered 
around the pond, flew into the air, called, coaxed, scolded, and at 
last picked a quarrel with the other hens, in which she was beaten. 
Not succeeding in enticing her brood from the pond by these 
means, she left them to take care of themselves, and retired with 
wings meekly drooped and her feathers considerably ruffled. 

My pond is forty feet square. It has pipes under ground for 
the purpose of letting water in and out, and I have this done 
several times a year. It is a very pretty little pond, and looks 
especially so when the geese and ducks swim and dive under the 
shade of the tall willow. 

It is a curious thing that hens will not have any chickens 
which have been hatched by some other hen. If the little 
strangers be put among their broods they will kill them. But 
let a hen's own brood be taken from her for some time: when 
brought back, twice as many may be added, and she will never 
know the difference. 

Have you ever heard a young rooster learning to crow ? No ? 
Then you have yet something funny to hear and see. Instead of 
crowing while walking about scratching, as the old ones do, he 
stops, looks around, cranes his neck, flaps his wings, and produces 
some curious-sounding noise, like a brick-bat scraping on a rusty 
pan or a dozen bull-frogs in the meadow after a rain. One morn- 
ing a young Shanghai of mine must have been in an unusually 
good humor, for he was rushing between the different groups of 
chickens and crowing with all his might. Suddenly, the thought 
struck him to fly upon the highest roost. With a tremendous 
flap of his wings, which quite upset his equilibrium, he lighted 


not on the lofty perch, but on the hen-house floor. You ran 
fancy his crestfallen appearance as he picked himself up with a 
shake, and meekly began to scratch for worms. 

I could write on forever about these, my pets; but unfortu- 
nately, their pretty necks are this very week to meet the fate to 
which all good little chickens' necks are doomed — to be wrung 
for dinner. 


We recently enjoyed a most interesting lecture from Professor 
Allan Curr, of the London University. His subject was the 
English House of Commons. As he has for many years been 
secretary to one of its members, his opportunities for observation 
have been exceptionally fine, and so vivid was his narrative that 
we imagined ourselves witnessing the scenes he described. He 
first took us with him for a single night to the House, dating our 
imaginary visit some few years back, during the life of Disraeli. 
He said: All the Houses of Parliament, which, together with 
Westminster Hall, form a single pile of buildings, stand directly 
on the Thames, at the foot of Whitehall. Passing through the 
old Palace Yard, we enter Westminster Hall, where our attention 
is first attracted by a magnificent stained-glass window at the 
further end. This window is a most glorious piece of work- 
manship, and, like all the other fine old specimens of stained- 
glass, is of rich, deep coloring. The play of light, as the sun 
shines through, is so brilliant as to dazzle us. Statues of many 
sovereigns of England are ranged along the side of this hall, so 
rich in historical associations. It witnessed the trials of Warren 
Hastings and of Sir William Wallace, Scotland's brave champion ; 
it witnessed the sentence of the unfortunate Charles I. On one 
side of this great hall is the far-famed Star Chamber; on the 
other, the Law Courts. The principal of these are the Courts of 
Chancery, Queen's Bench, Common Pleas, and Exchequer. They 


are open to the public, and are of great interest. We see num- 
bers of lawyers promenading up and down, in the long white 
wigs and black gowns by which they are readily recognized. But 
Westminster Hall is only the vestibule. Ascending a broad 
flight of stairs, we enter St. Stephen's Hall, the old St. Stephen's 
Chapel, long used for meetings of the Commons, and now used as 
a waiting-room. Along its walls are marble statues of celebrated 
statesmen ; in the niches by the doors are statues of kings. The 
hall is thronged. There are probably four or five hundred per- 
sons desiring admittance to the Strangers' Gallery, which will seat 
only seventy-five. At the door is an officer, who stands upon a 
table, distributing tickets among the crowd. He reserves seventy- 
five orders corresponding in numbers to some of those already 
given out. These he puts into his hat, stirs them vigorously, and 
then calls out their numbers until his list is exhausted. Those 
who are fortunate enough to possess the corresponding number 
pass in, while the others must take their departure. To the 
Speaker's Gallery, which accommodates not more than twenty-five 
persons, admission is gained by a Speaker's order. Let us sup- 
pose that we have one of these orders. With it we pass into 
Central Hall, similar to the rotunda in our Capitol; thence 
through a corridor into the Commons' lobby, where we will see 
on either side of the door a magnificent-looking and superbly 
dressed personage, whom we might mistake for an archbishop. 
Great is our surprise to learn that these pompous beings are only 
the door-keepers, who receive salaries perhaps as large as that of 
our Vice-President. Here we will stand and watch the members 
as they pass us. Here is Disraeli, who, though well advanced in 
years, walks with a light, elastic step, carelessly tossing his coat- 
tails behind him. His hat is cocked on one side, and we have a fair 
chance to observe the Jewish cast of countenance, and the ever- 
present little curl falling upon his forehead. ISext we notice Mr. 
Gladstone, who walks on with a majestic air, and hat inclined 
over his face, as if wholly unaware of the many eyes resting upon 
him. Following him is the burly form of John Bright, with his 
broad shoulders and Quaker hat. Let us hurry on, for, having 


made our way safely so far, we may yet find some difficulty in 
persuading the policeman in charge of the gallery -door to allow 
us to pass in. If so, we will present him with an image of his 
sovereign — on a half-crown — and while he gazes, wrapt in 
admiration, upon her countenance, we will walk in ; he will not 
recover himself in time to hinder us. Such is the loyalty of the 
British subject. 

We arc now in the House of Commons, and when all arc 
seated, prayers are read by the chaplain; but these are no 
sooner over than each member seizes his hat and rushes for the 
door. "Why, what does this mean?" we ask, amazed. "Is 
this all ? Is there to be no debate?" "Oh! no," some neighbor 
will say; "it hasn't begun yet, and what's more, will not begin 
for four hours." Can it be, we wonder, that England's legisla- 
tors are so pious as to assemble four hours before the debate to 
hear prayers? The piety is not so apparent when we learn that 
for the six hundred and fifty-eight members, only four hundred 
and seventy-six places are provided, and these can be secured 
only by presence at prayers. Those who are absent must run the 
risk of having to stand from eight o'clock in the evening until 
perhaps three in the morning. It is even said that Parliament 
was forced to take advantage of this scarcity of seats to compel 
the members to attend prayers. 

The most profitable way to employ ourselves during these 
leisure hours will be to examine the now empty House. Directly 
opposite the entrance is the Speaker's chair, on one side of which 
sits the Government Party, on the other, the members of the 
Opposition. Above it is the Reporter's Gallery, which is of great 
importance in its connection with the work of the press. Form- 
erly, the reporter, after listening to a speech for about ten minutes, 
went down to a little ante-room, wrote off his short-hand notes 
and dispatched them to the main office; but it is now customary 
to telegraph them directly to the head offices in London, Man- 
chester, Liverpool, and all the leading cities, so that the move- 
ments of the House arc known almost immediately throughout 
England. Members are sometimes highly indignant at finding 


a speech on which hours have been spent, summed up in a few 
lines. This cannot be avoided, however, for an excellent speech 
frequently reads but poorly in print, and few could be given 
verbatim. Very rarely is an entire debate published. 

Above the Reporter's Gallery, behind an iron grating, are the 
seats for ladies. We are shocked at this seeming discourtesy, but 
the gallery is such a marked improvement on the hole in the ceil- 
ing, through which the ladies formerly regarded the bald heads 
below, that we are forced to acknowledge it quite an improve- 
ment. Just outside the Bar are the seats for the Diplomatic Corps 
and distinguished strangers. 

At eight the members are again called together by electric bells, 
which extend over the entire building; and the debate is soon at 
its height. Disraeli, the man whose wonderful genius stamps him 
as undoubtedly the greatest statesman of the century, rises to 
speak. His demeanor, under all circumstances, is calm and self- 
possessed. However fiercely the debate may rage around him, 
his coolness is never known to vary. He has changed his poli- 
tics since the days of his youth, but so has Mr. Gladstone, and so 
have most statesmen. The very ability to grasp and thoroughly 
weigh both sides of a question indicates scope of mind. When 
Mr. Gladstone begins to speak, we are thoroughly convinced that, 
as an orator, he is greater than Disraeli, though he has not the 
same self-command. If the debate becomes hot, we do not find 
him unruffled; on the contrary, he often storms furiously. His 
genius, though different from Disraeli's, is not inferior; and his 
marvelous power of concentration, either upon one or several mat- 
ters, proves his mind to be of no common mould. Frankness 
and kindness are prominent traits in his character, and have 
gained for him the trust and love of his party. 

Who is this small man in a magnificent costume, and with a 
small sword dangling at his side ? He marches up and down, as 
though determined to be seen. This is the Sergeant-at-Arms. 
His employment is a problem whose solution has never been 
found, save by Lord Palmerston, who declared that the duties of 
the Sergeant-at-Arms were "to perform the various functions 


appertaining to his office." One of these " functions " is to receive 
the Queen's messengers at the door. This is a curious ceremony. 
Advancing alone to the Speaker's chair, the Sergeant-at-Arms 
takes the mace in both hands, and, with his hat under one arm, 
retreats backwards towards the door, bowing at every third step. 
The two messengers then following, all three advance, bowing at 
regular intervals, until they reach the Speaker. Having delivered 
the Queen's message, they retreat backwards; but we can scarcely 
wonder that under such embarrassing circumstances they should 
be tripped up occasionally — the messengers, by their long robes, 
and the sergeant by his sword; and that the performance which 
began so gracefully should end in a mad rush for the door, regard- 
less of all courtesy. The Serjeant-at-Arms has never been seen 
to do more work than this; yet for performing these "functions 
appertaining to his office," he receives thousands of pounds. 

Several times during the evening we hear members call for a 
division of the House. Those in favor answer "aye!" while the 
opposing answer " no !" On either side of the Speaker's chair is 
a division lobby, into which the members pass for the purpose of 
being counted; the "ayes" on the west, and the "noes" on the 

Prof. Curr save us several very amusing incidents which had 
taken place at various times; comical scenes often occur in Par- 

One of Lord Palmerstou's habits, when listening to the debate, 
was to sit with his eyes closed, apparently asleep. One morning 
at about three o'clock, when a very loquacious member was hold- 
ing forth, and Palmerston sat in his accustomed attitude, some 
member very indignantly called out: "See, Mr. Speaker, Eng- 
land's Prime Minister is asleep !" "I only wish I were," calmly 
replied Palmerston. 

Perhaps one of the most concise speakers in England is 
Robert Lowe. His remarkable pointedness has gained for him 
the name of " hedge-hog." Here is an amusing illustration of his 
terseness: It was very late at night, and in the Times office all 
was astir, for the tired printers were making the greatest haste to 


finish their work before morning. In walked the reporter, just 
from the Lord Mayor's with a speech of Robert Lowe's, to be 
put in the morning paper. 

" Quick, quick with your article !" called out the night editor. 

" What ! six sticks — and I've only half a column to put it in ! 
cut it down — quick, we've no time!" 

"Yes, sir," was the meek reply, "but" — 

" Cut it down, I tell you !" 

" Yes, sir ; but it's"— 

"Cut it down!" 

" Yes, sir ; but it's Robert Lowe's speech !" 

"What do I care whose speech it is? Cut it down — bring out 
the points !" 

" But, sir, it's all points !" 

The lecturer brought before us many reasons for which the 
House of Commons is of the greatest interest to all ; the chief 
one being that there, by a few hundred men, are decided the for- 
tunes of many millions. 

Interesting as are the doings of our mother country, but rarely 
are they put before us in so telling a manner as in the lecture of 
which the above is an imperfect report. It was the first time 
Prof. Curr has delivered this lecture in the South, but for the 
pleasure of all, especially our sister schools, we hope it may not 
be the last. 


Christmas is now a thing of the past, but recollections of the 
pleasant holidays still remain. Saturday morning, when good-bye 
had been said to the last 'bus full of girls, brimming with happi- 
ness at the prospect of Christmas and home, we found only 
twentv-five of us left. At first, we were lonely- and rather home- 
sick, but soon were quite merry again, preparing for the festivities. 
The Seniors, though driven from their own home in the Rock- 
house, found refuge in the up-stairs dormitories, and a warm 
welcome from the inmates. The first thing to do was to dress the 
Chapel, and accordingly, some one was dispatched for greens. 
When these arrived, all gathering round the wagon, eagerly drew 
out the sweet-smelling cedar, holly and pine; and soon, quick and 
willing fingers, under /Miss Slater's skillful direction, Jhad made 
the dear little Chapel more lovely than ever in its fresh Christmas 
robes. Before night, every available nook in the house wa« 
adorned with green. Christmas-eve we spent quietly, but iu 
anxious expectation of the morrow. Nine was the hour appointed 
for retiring, for Santa Claus had promised to come early. Soon 
all were peacefully dreaming, save one naughty little girl who 
peeped, and next morning declared she saw old Santa refreshing 
himself with some of the goodies as he filled the stockings. 
Almost before Christmas had dawned, all were wide awake, and 
since the pleading tones could not be resisted, the gas was lighted, 
while eager hands dived into the depths of stockings or hastily 
untied bundles, displaying treasure after treasure to delighted 
eyes. At breakfast, each found on her plate a number of pretty 
cards, with loving words and Christmas greetings; while the 
whole house rang with "Merry Christmas!" 


After Chapel, we walked down town to see and admire the 
beauty of the churches in their decorations, and returned quite 
ready for the good dinner awaiting us. There was a change in 
the dining-room, for instead of the eight or nine small tables, 


there were two long ones. After making merry for some time 
over our dinner, we at last, both young and old, repaired to the 
parlor to employ the hours till bed-time in merry games. The 
little children took particular delight in making our good-natured 
Professor leave his comfortable seat by the fire to chase them 
round the room. 

Tuesday morning the Seniors took their work into Miss 
Czarnomska's room, to finish reading " Happy Thoughts," begun 
upon the memorable day of the oyster-treat, soon after the publi- 
cation of the last Muse. Here we were in for a regular good 
time ! About one o'clock, reading gave place to lively talk and 
a delightful lunch, taken in Miss Czarnomska's dainty, pretty 
china plates, cups and saucers. There was no lack of boxes and 
no lack of lunch, consequently the four o'clock dinner was often 
neglected, at least by the lunchers. The dinner-bell dispersed 
the pleasant party. 

Happy thought ! To come again next day and hear the end 
of the story. Did it. Happy thoughts crowded so that we 
were obliged to close the door lest our uncontrollable laughter 
scandalize the Juniors. Happy thought ! To read something to 
compose our countenances. "The Mill on the Floss" was chosen, 
and well it served the purpose ; for the last night of the holidays 
found the same group, with eyes full of tears, and not this time 
from laughter. 

One evening when during a lull in the games, an immense 
waiter of oranges appeared, every one thought " A present from 
the Bishop ! no one else would be so kind." And so it was. Our 
beloved Bishop, though far away, had not forgotten us during the 
joyous Christmas-tide, as was shown by the delicious fruit, all the 
sweeter to us because coming from his own grove in Florida. 

The week before Christmas the house was all astir. 
Hourly the girls were called into the parlor, which reminded one 
of a Turkish bazar, with angels' wings, fools' caps and bells, 
kings' crowns, hobby-horses, saints' shields, dolls and other toys, 
in sad confusion. But by Wednesday night, order was evolved 


from chaos and all was ready for the operetta, the little Kinder 
Garteners being much excited about their "parts." The operetta 
was given for the benefit of St. John's Hospital, and, in spite of 
the heavy rain, forty-one dollars were taken at the door. The 
audience pitied the absent ones, and asked for a repetition under 
more favorable circumstances. 

We recently attended the "First Public Concert' of the 
Philharmonic," at Tucker Hall, and were delighted with the 
performance. Dr. Kiirsteiner tells us he has asked the members 
of the Philharmonic to a concert, on the fifth of February, to be 
given by "his girls" to the Legislature, and he wishes them to be 
equally entertained. 

One evening when the Senior burdens weighed heavily, 
and we sat together in a disconsolate group, rumors reached us 
that something mvsterious was groino; on in the library. Curiosity, 
at once awakened, was not left long ungratified. In obedience 
to a summons, we ran up stairs, and entering the library, a smok- 
ing tureen and other pleasing visions betokened another birth- 
day. It is needless to say we enjoyed it to the utmost, and, with 
renewed vigor, met the work awaiting us. 

" Ex nihil, nihil fit," has no meaning for editors. 

January 22d, examinations draw near. The numerous 
wills, made and duly signed, and a dejected effigy, swinging from 
a tree, betray the general state of mind. 

The thing that ls crammed, a word of five letters, begin- 
ning with a G, was a riddle proposed on Monday morning, when 
further study was prohibited. 

Girls will indulge in what the French term "affair* da 
cceur" and school-girls "smashes." On the blackboard, at present, 
is this advertisement: "Lost! a heart. The possessor will please 
return to the loser." 

The new term BEGAN with a bright, fair day, one of the few 
since Christmas. May it prove a good omen. 



" One by one, the sands are flowing, 
One by one, they marry, all." 

Our last year's predecessor in the editorial department is no 
longer Jessie Williams. Remember, girls, in future, she is Mrs. 

. Another of our Texas girls is contemplating marriage, 

though not for a year to come. Two of St. Mary's daughters, 
from Tarboro, and one from Newbern, have recently changed 
their name and station, and there is a rumor of one of our Chapel 
Hill friends following their example. We send to all our love 
and best wishes. 

Foe the last two months the school has been led by Emmie 
McVea, one of next year's graduates. We congratulate Emmie, 
and advise the other members of the class of '84 to look to their 

All of us, particularly the sick girls, are delighted to wel- 
come Sister Eliza back to St. Mary's. 

Miss Williams, from Boston, who, at the beginning of the 
session, taught German and Mathematics at St. Mary's, and left 
on account of delicate health, is now in Tarboro, at the Pender 
School. Though with us so short a time, she completely won 
our love and respect. We are glad that she is so near us, and 
that there is a prospect of seeing her again. 

On Tuesday, December 5th, we went in a body to Christ 
Church to attend the marriage of our physician, Dr. P. E. Hines, 
and Miss Fannie I. Johnson. The weather, which had for some 
time been exceedingly sombre, cleared off beautifully for the occa- 
sion. In spite of the early hour, the church was full ; the bride 
was on time, looking very pale, but lovely; and in a very few 
moments our Doctor was made " a happy man." . Besides a large 
number of elegant wedding-presents, this bridal pair have been 

-ST. MARY'S MUSE. 107 

the recipients of all sorts of peculiar little gifts testifying the joy 
of very many little folks in their happiness, for never, surely, 
were there two people more beloved by children. Since their 
return from their extended tour, Mrs. Hines has been obliged to 
hold numerous receptions for the benefit of these tiny friends. 
We join with them in their loving good wishes. 

At the Church of the Good Shepherd, on Wednesday, 
January 31st, Miss Fanny Augusta Lyman, eldest daughter of 
the Bishop of North Carolina, was married to the Hon. Wm. R. 
Cox, lately reelected to Congress. The Christmas greens still 
decorated the church, the sunlight streamed in gloriously. Xot 
even standing-room was to be had. Our editorial corps was repre- 
sented by Miss Esther E. Ransom, but as we were all invited to 
the reception at 2 P. M., and there was every prospect that Miss 
Ransom would have to stand from the time she left St. Mary's 
till the ceremony was over, we were not too envious of her dis- 
tinction. At half past twelve o'clock the bridal party entered 
the church and advanced to the choir, where they were met by 
the Rev. Mr. Rich, who performed the first part of the ceremony. 
After the Betrothal, the bride and groom passed on to the chancel- 
rail, where the Bishop awaited them and completed the marriage. 
Over their heads hung a wedding-bell of beautiful flowers. The 
reception was held from 1 to 3 p. m. at the Bishop's residence. 
Gen. and Mrs. Cox stood at the further end of the picture- 
gallery, in the doorway leading to the conservatory, which was 
filled in with plants and trailing vines, and formed a green back- 
ground for the newly-married pair. Here they received the good 
wishes of their friends, while the floral marriage-bell swung above 
them. The numerous and valuable wedding-presents were taste- 
fully disposed on the opposite side of the room. Gen. and Mrs. 
Cox left Raleigh the same evening followed by the hearty good 
wishes of all. 

We are sorry to record that Lizzie Battle, of the class of 
'83, has been obliged by ill-health to give up the idea of gradu- 
ating in June. We trust that she will be able to return next 


year, when several of her Tarboro friends are to take their diplo- 
mas. We believe that Lizzie could not bear to leave us behind 
in the race, and that she is waiting for us to catch up. 

We offer our sincere sympathy to our sister school in 
Illinois, in the disaster that befell them during the holidays. Fire 
is a pitiless demon ; but in no case does it seem so terrible as when 
it attacks a school. Thus far, this St. Mary's has been spared, pos- 
sibly from the fact that neither so great nor such long-continued 
artificial heating is required in our favored climate, and the long 
ladders that hang in the covered w T ay to the infirmary enjoy undis- 
turbed repose, save w T hen our rebellious roses and luxuriant wis- 
taria, that struggle wildly over the roofs, need to feel the pruning- 
knife. May we never be in greater need of them. 

As we go to press, we learn of the death of the great Maes- 
tro, Richard Wagner. Let us rejoice that he was allowed to com- 
plete his life-work, and fill the measure of his fame by his great 
sacred drama, Parsifal. 


English, American and French newspajjers and periodi- 
cals still pour forth articles upon the great Republican of France, 
Gambetta, and the world awaits with eager expectancy and fore- 
boding the effect of his death upon the French government. 
Perhaps of all countries, America judges the dead most leniently, 
and is most interested in the crisis of the now unstable Republic; 
for patriotism touches her people to the quick, and surely Gam- 
betta was a true patriot. England, too, honors and praises the 
statesman, but France, his own country, for whom he labored so 
long, now raises her voice against him. If the Revue des Deux 
Monties truly expresses the opinion of the people, France herself, 
now that the excitement caused by his death, and the public 



enthusiasm, tire over, and the magnificence of his regal funeral has 
become a thing of the past, condemns M. Gambetta's policy and 

attributes his rise in power to circumstances rather than to any 
intrinsic greatness. " Pie was a skillful tactician," the state now 
cries; "he knew how to make use of his opportunities, and he 
possessed wonderful influence over the people, but he had neither 
genius nor political foresight, and the influence he had could not 
have lasted long." It is very true that he had not, in a preeminent 
degree, that intense realization of effects which so characterizes 
Gladstone, but we expect a more careful weighing of results from 
a cool, clear-headed Englishman than from the eager, impetuous 
Frenchman. Then, the country has been, since the empire, in 
such confusion that present peace seems for many years the most 
desirable end. Perhaps, as the Revue insinuates, Gambetta's 
influence might have been brief, and every one knows that his 
later speeches had not the force of former ones ; but, in the autopsy 
made before burial, his brain appeared worn out. Should France 
point then to his loss of power as the result of his policy? It is 
impossible that a man utterly without genius should, for so many 
years, have managed the home affairs of France as he has done. 
A different foreign policy might have placed France in a much 
more favorable light before the world, but it must be remembered 
that Gambetta was in office but a few weeks after the Egyptian 
troubles began. America thinks that with Gambetta the support 
of the Republic fell ; that, although out of office, he was still the 
ruling power in the Cabinet, and that he stood as a guarantee to the 
people that all would be well with their country. England, often 
stern in her judgments upon the turmoils and distractions of the 
young Republic, speaks with admiration of its leader: "The fiery 
and vehement heart . . . that throbbed with hope when all was 
numb," and lavishes well-earned praise upon the defender of 
France, one whi) was indeed "the well-spring of her hope . . . 
her lover and defender from the South." France says that 
affairs were already approaching a crisis before his death, and 
this same involved and perilous situation would have come 
upon the Republic even had M. Gambetta lived. Like 


many another great man, he is most honored out of his own 
country. Hated alike by Communist and Royalist, the Repub- 
lican is now the only party which acknowledges his greatness; 
but the very fact that the Communists do hate him shows how 
much milder his later policy was than that which he exercised at 
the beginning of his ministry, when he was indeed a rabid Repub- 
lican. He saw the needs of the times and submitted to them, 
and in all things, save in his unpardonable conduct towards the 
Church, he reverenced and respected the customs and traditions 
of his country. We acknowledge that he was more of a Danton 
than a Pitt, but his influence, enthusiasm, indomitable will and 
great magnetism were exactly what France needed. She 
wanted peace, and he gave it to her. Unity in the Republic was 
his whole aim, and he accomplished it. Yes, his countrymen 
may grudge him the glory due to him, but they can never deprive 
him of it; they may say that he would have failed to avert the 
coming storm, but he had averted like troubles from the country ; 
why might he not have been successful in this? That he was a 
leader is shown in the present disorganized condition of the Cabi- 
net. The members, to a man, seem paralyzed, not one daring to 
take up the reins of government, and the Bourbon, Orleans and 
Bonaparte houses, learning their secret power from the very act 
agitated to put them down, have risen into sudden danger and 
threaten a third empire. 

Whatever France may say concerning Gambetta's policy, she 
needs most sorely his firm, powerful hand to carry her through 
this crisis, and unless some one be soon found to take his place, 
the Republic will scarcely pass safely through the trial. 

Forty years ago, a man would have been considered a 
lunatic who dared assert the theories which the spectroscope has 
proved. We, in our little world, had heard far-off echoes of its 
glorious achievements, and longed to have a peep at it; and, when 
one day it was rumored that our philosophy lecture was to be on 
the spectroscope, everybody was on tiptoe with excitement. The 
time came, and we were all assembled in the school-room. The 


curious little brown box on the table was regarded by the girls 
with the most mysterious dread, and it was comical to mark the 
ridiculously awe-struck faces which peered so eagerly into the 
brass slit at the end of one of the tubes. We hoped to see the 
whole gorgeous solar spectrum, but alas ! the magnesium which 
was to have effected this brilliant display, after being lighted, 
obstinately clung to the operator's hands, which unlooked-for 
event caused much alarm. But this disappointment was compen- 
sated for by the red lithium light which flared up the next 
moment from the Bunsen burner, and delighted exclamations 
arose as the favored one, gazing into the spectroscope, saw the 
delicate red bar playing over a miniature scale placed in the centre 
of the instrument. Next came that provoking old sodium, giving 
out a brilliant yellow color which persistently edged its way into 
everything, so that the most delicate shades of green or blue were 
fringed with a scrap of yellow. But universal cries of admira- 
tion hailed the exquisite violet of the potassium. 

After all, the instrument which caused all this excitement (and 
surely we need not feel very school-girlish in our keen enjoyment 
of the modern wonder which has so disturbed all scientists) was 
very simple. A small stand, resting on three pillars and support- 
ing a round table, formed a basis; three lateral tubes were fastened 
to projections from the edge of the table, while in its centre was 
placed a prism. The right hand tube, the collimator, had at its 
outer extremity a fine slit, while at the other end it held a lens 
which served to render the rays of light parallel before entering 
the prism. The tube on the left, a miniature telescope, admitted 
light to a little scale which marked exactly the position of the 
lines, and a third tube, with an eye-piece for the observer, com- 
pleted the arrangements. Such a very simple tiling it was, that 
we were all much astounded to hear that the germs of the spec- 
troscope were discovered two hundred years ago; but this is cer- 
tainly true, for in finding the laws of prisms, Newton gave us 
the first ideas about the construction of this wonderful aid to 
science. Two hundred years seem a long time to have wasted. 
This waste is probably due to the fact that, although most scientists 

112 ST. .VARY'S 31 USE. 

have been great observers, few have had sufficient imagination to 
apply what they saw, or to develope a consistent theory. This 
has been shown in a remarkable manner in natural history. When 
Darwin began his wide philosophical researches, we are told that 
he had a vast quantity of material to build on, as very accurate 
and minute observations had been made by thoughtful men upon 
the world around them ; but it was left for this great genius to 
arrange and classify the mass of crude knowledge. In the case 
of the spectroscope, Newton knew the laws which govern the 
prism, and made many experiments on the refrangibility of the 
various colors of light, but in collecting the rays to be operated 
upon, he used a round hole, and it was a century later that Dr. 
Wollaston, experimenting upon the same subject, found that by 
means of a slit, a spectrum infinitely purer could be obtained. 
This also gave rise to the discovery of those dark lines on the 
spectra, which at first caused much disagreement and discussion, 
but which, we now know, indicate absence of color. So, step by 
step, the instrument was built up ; at first only one prism was 
used, then two or three of the same density, then several of dif- 
ferent densities ; afterwards a lens was placed between the prisms 
and the observation slit, thus gaining for us much in the purity 
and clearness of the spectra, so that now we have the instrument 
in all seeming perfection. By its aid we have discovered many 
new elements on the surface of the earth, and what is more, have 
penetrated far into space. Kirchoff learned from it his grand 
solar theory; the constituents of the stars were discovered and 
even the existence of the faint, far-off nebula? established ; the 
smallest fleck of light shining in the distant heavens may be 
brought to earth and analysed by it. Yet this may be only the 
commencement of its marvelous course ; and years hence philoso- 
phers may refer to our discoveries as the first crude ideas of an 
awakening people. 

The terrible distress occasioned on the Continent by the 
floods of the Rhine and the Danube is. only equalled by the recent 
woes of our own America. Thousands of hearts which swelled 


with pity for Germany and Hungary now feel deeper sympathy 
a.s they hear of the utter devastation of our fair western lands. 
Nobly did America aid the German sufferers, and her ever ready 
help is now most freely extended to her own kindred. 

The great commercial city, Cincinnati, was among the first to 
feel the blow. The Ohio, her pride and delight, swelling into a 
mighty torrent, poured down upon the doomed city, and mile 
upon mile was buried beneath the waters. Business was stopped, 
the gas cut off, and through the darkness of the night men, women, 
and children fled from their flooded homes, thinking only to save 
their lives. The loss of life has been wonderfully small, but that 
of property has been fearful, and hundreds are now in a state of 
utter destitution. The courage and self-reliance of our West- 
erners have come out strongly in this, their hour of distress. 
Although aid was soon sent, before it had reached the city her 
people were providing for themselves. The churches had been 
opened to receive the sufferers and large contributions donated to 
relieve them. The worst is now believed to be over for Cincin- 
nati, but Louisville will probably pass through the same dangers. 
Indiana, Arkansas and West Virginia are also threatened, and 
even when the waters subside malaria will probably ensue. The 
scourge that last year devastated our Southern valleys has fallen 
upon the West. 

Of late years so much has been heard of the wonders of 
the Yellow Stone Park that every one is delighted to learn the 
plans of a certain company for its improvement in the way of 
modern comforts for travellers. Hitherto, though many have 
desired to visit this remarkable place, few have been able to do 
so on account of the wildness of the surrounding country and the 
very tedious staging;. It is thought, however, that we will, in a 
short while, have two railroads; one going to the South will 
extend to the park from the Southern Pacific, while visitors from 
the North will find access made easy by a branch from the Union 
Pacific. Gen. Sheridan, although unable to carry out his plans, 
was very anxious to see the park improved, and complained bit- 


terly of the ravages that had been made. (The good General did 
not recollect that his own soldiers were at one time encamped 
around the park and that they burned some of those old forests, 
the loss of which he so deeply deplores.) However, we hope the bill 
allowing these improvements will soon be passed. Then hotels, 
hacks and carriages will afford our luxurv-lovin«; nineteenth cen- 
tury travellers an agreeable and comfortable means of seeing the 
" Pleasure grounds of the world. 


The glory of discovering the course of the Congo, one of 
the longest as well as one of the most important rivers in Africa, 
rests with Mr. Stanley, the great American traveller, noted 
especially for his explorations in Southern Africa. He wished 
to put Europe in communication with equatorial Africa by means 
of this river, and would probably have succeeded, in spite of the 
many natural difficulties which barred his way, if he had not 
met with a formidable rival in Mr. de Brazza, a French naval 
officer, who, in courage, patience, and skill is quite equal to Mr. 
Stanley. Now M. de Brazza is determined to secure for 'France 
a prominent position on the banks of the Congo, and Mr. Stanley 
is just as determined to put all the commerce of the plateau of 
the Congo in the hands of the commercial society of which he is 
the chief agent. In a recent number of the Revm des Deux 
Mondes, there is an entertaining article, from which we take the 
following extracts relative to the importance of the Congo: 

"In the quarrel between M. de Brazza and Mr. Stanley, or rather between 
the French flag and a commercial society which has its seat at Brussels, con- 
siderable interests are at stake. Of the four principal rivers of Africa, the 
Nile is in the hands of the English; they are trying to obtain the Zambesi 
from the Portuguese, and they exercise a growing influence in the valley of 
the lower Niger. The Congo remains, and it is impossible to exaggerate its 
importance. As M. de Brazza has said in one of his reports, by its central 
situation and by the fan-like position of its tributaries, the Congo is a gigantic 
artery, which drains a wide stretch of country, from Soudan to the basins of 
the Nile, the great lakes, and the Zambesi; or rather it forms a vast inland 
sea, with a stretch of coast at least twenty thousand kilometers in length and 
a population estimated at eighty millions. The soil on this plateau is every- 
where fertile, and of a richness which can produce indefinitely. Every day 


new treasures are found. We can judge from what we see upon the banks of 
the Ogoona, that almost everywhere the cultivation of coffee, cacao, sugar-cane, 
cotton, and the trade of palm-oil, gum-copal, dye-woods and ebony is sacrificed 
to the traffic of ivory and caoutchouc ; while the former would yield 1,000 per 
cent, more." 

Concerning the population and the manners and customs of the 
natives, the French writer says: 

"The dense populations which dwell on this plateau offer all the varieties 
of a black race — all the shades of its qualities and vices, of its aptness and 
weakness. Some of these tribes are very industrious ; they cultivate their 
fields of maize, manioc, tobacco and earth-nuts. Some know certain indus- 
tries, and work their mines of copper and lead or manufacture fine cloth. 
Others abandon themselves to navigation, and are noted for the beauty of their 
'pirogues,' for the incomparable skill of their rowing. There are some who 
have gentle manners and a hospitable character; there are others who have the 
reputation, perhaps exaggerated, of cannibalism, and whose chiefs eat their 
dead enemy — first, because they find his flesh appetizing; secondly, with the 
design of appropriating his courage. If, in the eyes of the moralist these 
people are not all he could desire, in the eyes of the trader they have this 
great advantage, that Islamism has not yet penetrated to them. We know that 
Mahomet invades all parts of Africa, that from year to year he extends his 
concpiests with astonishing rapidity ; but the Mahometan missionary succeeds 
best in the dry and sandy parts of Africa — the Africa of the camel ; they 
expose themselves with less boldness, they have more trouble to get a foot- 
hold in the green and woody regions where the elephant dwells. The blacks 
of the Congo have only a vague rudiment of religion. They believe that the 
dead live in another world, they worship their ancestors and sometimes talk 
with them. When Makoko kindles his fire, he orders a bell to be rung before 
his hut to awake those who are no more, and to invite them to come and warm 
themselves. His subjects recognize, as he does, some supernatural power 
whose good will it is necessary to secure, and whose wicked freaks must be 
foiled by certain sorceries. Each black sovereign has his great feticher, each 
black his fetich. Unquestionably, an Arab Mussulman is, in the scale of 
beings and believers, very far above a black worshipper of fetiches. But 
Mahometanism inspires all the population where it spreads with a fierce 
fanaticism, which renders commerce very difficult. It is for this reason that 
from the Senegal to the Niger the French find themselves obliged to advance 
by force of arms, and a pioneer colony is not too much to insure the safety of 
a ton of merchandise. The blacks of the Congo have noviolent antipathy 
to the whites; at least, they do not expect them to take advantage of or 
rob them. They remember with displeasure certain proceedings of Mr. 
Stanley, in the island reddened by the blood of the Oubandjis. But when a 

116 .ST. MARY'S MUSE. 

white chief assures them of his designs, and gives them sensible witnesses of 
his good will, they easily come to terms with him. In the region of the 
Ogoona, M. de Brazza has found thousands of natives disposed to help him in 
his enterprises, and as many workmen as he wished to construct a road from 
Franceville to Alima. These natives are the more ready to welcome the 
Europeans, as they have, in general, a commercial mind, a taste for traffic and 
business. Although they have not many ideas in their kinky heads, the idea 
of barter, of exchange, of buying and selling, are deeply rooted there. They 
know what a contract is, and that it is necessary to offer something to obtain 
more. They even count fidelity to engagements a virtue, and in treating with 
them one must be careful to keep one's word, to be equable in manner and not 
perplex them by any variations of temper. ***** 

"It is a misfortune that, on the Congo, the slave trade is largely indulged in. 
The development of commercial relations will be the best way of combatting 
this terrible evil. When the chief is convinced that it will be more profitable 
to sell caoutchouc than men, he will be less inclined to regard his subjects as 
merchandise, as an article of export. In Europe, as well as in Africa, we 
hesitate to part with our ox when his work brings us more than his feed costs; 
and the black man, like the white, is governed by his interests. * * * * 

" Nothing is perfect. If the Congo were navigable to its mouth, there would 
be very little to do in order to put Europe in communication with equatorial 
Africa, its riches and its treasures. But, approaching the Atlantic, the great 
river crosses a very uneven country, an accumulation of mountains, separated 
by ravines from fifty to two hundred meters in depth. Before precipitating 
itself, it forms a lake which the blacks call Ncouna, and which the whites have 
baptized with the name of Stanley Pool, a just homage paid to the intrepid 
traveller who first discovered its banks. From Stanley Pool to Vivi, thirty- 
two cataracts interrupt the navigation." 

But Stanley was not to be stopped by such trifles as these. He 
pushed his way onward, "buying land and founding villages." 
Suddenly he found that an unforeseen obstacle barred his way. 
Arriving at Ncouna the twenty-seventh day of July, he found 
the obstacle to be — 

"a piece of cloth, blue, white and red, and a sergeant, named Malamine, who 
had two men for his escort. To be stopped by a sergeant and a rag seemed a 
mere joke." * * * * * 

" But he discovered that the rag was taken very seriously by the natives ; 
that they stood under it to defend their rights; and, carried away by an excess 
of zeal, they were entrenched behind an immense barricade with guns and 
spears. They assigned to him for a camping-ground, a wretched place, twenty 
meters square, enclosed between the river and the thickets of a forest, and two 
kilometers from the village. They blockaded him, and threatened to cut off 
his provisions. * * * * * 


"He tried to persuade the native chief that the tri-colored piece of cloth 
was the most foolish, the most powerless of fetiches, but did not succeed in 
convincing him. Overpowered by hunger, he was compelled to pass over to 
the left bank of the Congo, and soon after went away, very much astonished 
and very much vexed; if we had been in his place, we should have been so, too. 

" From 1S75 to 1878, while the bold American was gloriously crossing 
Africa, M. de Brazza had left the Gabon to set off' towards the interior of the 
mysterious continent in search of a highroad for commerce. He went back 
to Europe, then returned to the Gabou, firmly convinced that if he did not 
discover another means of joining France to the navigable Congo, it would 
never possess more than a modest counting-house lost upon the coast. After 
having ascended the Ogoona, founded Franceville, and done many things which 
were not easy to do, he started en route for the Congo. His design was to estab- 
lish peaceful relations with the Oubandjis, who were born, lived and died with 
their families in their beautiful pirogues, upon which they transport ivory 
and merchandise from the mouth of the Aliraa and Stanley Pool. A great 
waste of words was necessary, but after many palavers, peace was concluded. 
They buried war. They made a hole opposite the unfortunate island where 
so much blood had been shed. Each chief placed in it a bullet, a flint, or a 
powder-horn; M. de Brazza and his men buried their cartridges; then they 
planted in it a rapidly-growing tree. Then one of the chiefs pronounced these 
words: 'We will bury war so deep that neither we nor our children can dis- 
inter it, and the tree which grows here will witness the alliance between the 
whites and the blacks.' 'And we, also,' replied M. de Brazza, 'will bury war. 
Peace will last as long as this tree produces neither bullets, powder, nor cart- 
ridges.' After this, he planted his flag there. Each of the chiefs wished to 
have one, which he rubbed against the first, and soon the whole Oubandji flotilla 
was adorned with French flags." 

M. de Brazza, by winning the friendship of Makoko, one of 
the most powerful chiefs of the Congo, has obtained the aid of 
the OubaiidjiSj and may be able to put in the hands of France the 
key of the Congo River. 

But Punch, or some other irreverent scribbler suggests, that 
after the present tri-color is worn out, Mr. Stanley, by taking 
over a cargo of ras^s with the colors differently arranged, may be 
able to make another treaty, and buy over the tribes at the rate 
of two for a quarter. 

118 ST. MARY'S 3IUSE. 




We are all eager to know something about modern Egypt, on 
account of the stir that has been made by the late war, and every 
one desires to see how the land of the Pharaohs is governed in 
our times. Edwin de Leon, the author of "Egypt Under its 
Khedives," may therefore be regarded as a benefactor to the 
world; at least, he has satisfied our curiosity, and certainly he 
could not have done a kinder thing. Mr. de Leon is well calcu- 
lated to give us a true account of the state of affairs in Egypt, 
having been Consul-General, and consequently a resident in the 
country, for several years. The book was first published in 1877, 
but has been revised in the last year, and a preliminary chapter 
added giving a brief account of the war. 

To those who have not paid much attention to the changes in 
Egypt since the time of Mehemet Ali, the picture of Egyptian 
life given in Mr. de Leon's work must be a startling revelation. 
To think of Egypt, the land which seems to us covered with 
mould, as teeming with railways and telegraph lines, with the 
high road of commerce on its borders, and many modern wonders, 
which we would never dream of finding in the land of the 
pyramids and sphinxes, requires us to overthrow all our precon- 
ceived ideas. The style of the book is lively and interesting, 
particularly so from the fact that the author was an eye-witness 
to many of the events which he relates. The characters of the 
different Khedives and their principal state officers are clearly 
drawn. We can almost believe we have seen the swarthy coun- 
tenance and thickset figure of the suspicious Abbas Pacha 
and his perfect contrast, the frank Said. The advance of educa- 
tion in Egypt, the improvements and public works, the army, 
finances and resources, the influence of the foreign element in 


% (|narferltj ©ataxias, 



Vol. V. RALEIGH, N. C, APRIL, 1883. No. 3. 




— Leah McQenaghan, Jun. A 123 

A Nightmare — Alice M. Ha good, Sen.B 127 

Tarboro— il/an/ L. Ratals, Sen. B 129 

Bees — Fanny McL Lucas, Sen. B 133 

A Chalk Cup — Susie C. Dabney, Prep. A 136 

From Our Foreign Correspondent, VII — Eliza H. Smedes 138 

Nanine, Concluded — (from (he French of H. La Fontaine) 

Emilie R. Smedes, Sen. B 142 

Our Summer Resorts— III, Asheville — Mary M. Stone, Sen. B, 151 

The Purse op Gold, a Fairy Story — Emily St. P. Morgan, Jun. A, 156 

A Trip to Black Mountain — S. Adelene Wicks, Jun. C 159 

Tobacco — 5. Isabel Graws, Sen. B 161 

A Word Concerning William the Conqueror 

— Margie F. Busbee, Prep. A 163 

In Memoriam 168 

Editorial— Martha A. Lfovxl 169 

Report of the Bishop's Lecture— Sophia D. Thurmond 171 

Current Topics — 4 

The Burning of St. Augustine's — Emilie R. Smedes 178 

The Archbishop of Canterbury — The Political Situation in 

France — The Historian, J. R. Green — Emilie W. McVca, 179 

The Raphael Memorial — Lila A. McLin 187 

Literary Notices — 

"The Correspondence of Talleyrand" — Lizzie M. Lewis 189 

"Unknown to History" — "Le Francais"— Modern Adver- 
tisements — Miscellaneous — Kate L. Sutton 191 

Art- Notes — Annie H.Philips 196 




Entered at tie Post Office in Raleigli at second-class rates. 

P If T TT Tr T Classical and Military Academy, 
J I j I ii|j Near Warrenton, Fauquier County, l/a. 

Prepares for Collie, University or Business. 

Recommended for Location, Health, Morality, 
Scholarship and Discipline. 

BOARD AND TUITION (Half- Session), $95.00. 

Address, for Catalogue, Maj. A. G. SMITH, Supt., 

Bethel Academy P. 0., Fauquier County, l/a. 

Established in 1793. 


Is PRE-EMINENT among Southern Boarding Schools for Boys in 
AGE, NUMBERS, AREA of patronage, and (the Superintendent feels safe 
in adding) in the character and results of its combined civil and military 

The catalogue for 1880 contained more than 240 names, from ten Southern 
and four Northern States of the Union, and South America, Europe and Asia 
are also represented. 

Board and Tuition, $110 per Session of 20 Weeks. 

For catalogue giving full particulars, address 

Maj. JR. BINGHAM, Sup't. 


A delightful Summer Retreat, specially intended for the benefit of tired 
teachers. Situated in the beautiful region opposite Peekskill and ten miles 
below West Point. It is easy of access by boat and railroad. The accommoda- 
tions are of the best and the terms low. Applications must be made early, as 
only a limited number can be received at one time. 


Vol. V. Raleigh, N. C, April, 1883. No. 3. 


In the latter part of the seventeenth century, a Madagascar 
vessel brought into the Charleston harbor a small quantity of 
rice. Prompted more by curiosity than by any knowledge of the 
future good to his country, a Charlestonian purchased a few 
grains and planted them in his garden. The yield was tremen- 
dous and the planter lost no time in distributing the seeds among 
his friends. In each instance they were carefully cultivated; 
and in scarcely one did the produce fail to give perfect satisfac- 
tion. It was not, however, until the following year, when the 
grain was planted on a larger scale and its value learned, that 
many a poor farmer found his hitherto useless bogs and swamps 
mines of wealth. Since the introduction of rice, South Carolina 
has ever taken the lead of her sister States in its production. 
Water is the great essential of American rice culture. With us 
there is no such thing as the highland rice of India, and it is to 
her numerous swamps and means of irrigation that our country 
owes her magnificent rice crops. Rice is very exhaustive to 
land, especially where water cannot be supplied; but Carolina 
can never be much injured in this way, as nearly all her rice- 
plantations can easily be watered from some neighboring stream. 

The most famous rice-fields of the South are at Georgetown, 
near Charleston ; and, as we find here the finest rice and the most 
successful culture, we are tempted to take a Georgetown planta- 
tion as the type of all. Georgetown is, in every respect, well 
fitted for the growth of the grain ; besides the natural moisture 
of the swamp lands, the Pee Dee, having forced its channel 


through the country, waters the beautiful fields which liue its 
banks. For miles along the river the land is laid out in regular 
squares of about fourteen acres each ; a deep canal surrounds every 
square ; some of these are large enough to float small boats, called 
rice-flats. These flats ply up and down, carrying the rice from 
the fields to the granaries. The river, when turned from its bed, 
flows into the ditches and over the laud ; all communication 
between river and canals is then cut off and the water may be 
kept standing for any length of time. 

Early in March the ground is broken up with large hoes; then 
the water is turned on and the ground is flooded for three days. 
As soon as it is sufficiently dry for work, deep trenches are made 
about three feet apart ; in these the seed is sown and covered. 
Now the water is again turned on and stands until the grain 
sprouts, which takes one week. To prevent the seeds from being 
washed away, they are carefully rubbed in clay before planting. 
Three varieties of rice are raised : the white, which has a large, 
snowy grain and yellow husk ; the golden or red, which has a 
small, yellowish grain and deep golden covering ; lastly, the long 
rice, a species of the white, developed by a Carolina planter. As 
the latter gives, the largest yield, it is most widely cultivated. 
Rice belongs to the grass family and, on first coming up, is so 
much like the weeds which infest it, that the two can be distin- 
guished only by the old plantation negroes. As it is so difficult 
to uproot the grass without injuring the grain, the early culture 
is very tedious. When two weeks old the young rice is carefully 
hoed ; this operation is repeated three weeks later ; then the long- 
standing water is turned on and the rice is troubled no more until 
the harvest. 

As you row down the Pee Dee in June, an enchanted world 
seems suddenly to burst upon your view. As far as the eye can 
reach is a rippling sea of living green. Richly-colored butter- 
flies flit to and fro. The soft noon-day sun spreads a hazy glow 
through the atmosphere, while the gentle breeze as it ripples over 
the slumbering sea wakes a music soft and sweet as iEolian harps. 
Thought is suspended, sorrows and cares are forgotten; you do not 


even dream as your boat floats on. A moment later, a sudden 
tempest rends the breast of the miniature ocean. The grain, 
lashed into fun - by the angry wind, sends forth a dismal wail. 
The balmy air is hot and dark. Your boat rocks furiously and 
in an instant every sense is wide awake. 

Rowing down the river in August, how different is the scene! 
You say to yourself, I am indeed in fairy land, for nature could 
not have wrought such wonders in so short a time. The merry 
hum of human voices greets your ear ; some parts of the fields 
are bare, while in others the ripe, yellow grain is fast falling under 
the sickle. Some of the busy harvesters are binding the sheaves, 
others carrying large bundles on their heads to load the flats. 
These negroes, who are known among us as the low-country, or 
rice-plantation hands, are a peculiar branch of the African race. 
They are noted for their beautiful teeth, rivaling in whiteness the 
grain of which they are so fond ; also, for the rich inky blackness 
of their complexions. They speak an almost unintelligible gib- 
berish, which we call "Gullah." It is very amusing to see them 
darting about in the rice-fields in their knee-pants and full blue 
blouses. They ignore all such small marks of civilization as 
coats, hats, and shoes, and their costume never varies. They are 
the only people in the world who know how to cook rice ; dirt 
and poverty are their portion, but the rice which they live on 
from infancy is fit for the palate of a king. 

The newly-cut grain is always spread out on the floors of large 
barns for several days before threshing, as it comes out of the 
husk much easier when thoroughly dry. Only the rice intended 
for home use is beaten out ; for when shipped it is much less liable 
to danger in the shell. For many years it was very difficult to 
prepare even a small quantity for use, as it had to be beaten out 
in large wooden mortars with heavy pestles. The mortars were 
made by burning about three feet deep into a block of cypress 
four feet tall and three in circumference. Sand was then beaten 
in them until all appearance of charcoal was removed. The 
pestle was nothing more than a round piece of hickory with a 
large knob on each end. Even now the poor people and negroes 


thresh their rice in this manner. The heavy steam engines of 
to-day will thresh out a large crop in a few hours. After all the 
chaff is taken off, the clean grains are put into a revolving cylin- 
der, the first third of which is pierced with holes just large 
enough for the largest grains to pass through ; the next are a 
little smaller, while the last are very small. Thus we have three 
qualities of rice : the first is sold ; the second furnishes the table ; 
and the last, Avhich consists of broken and inferior grains, is con- 
sidered quite a delicacy by the negroes. 

Rice-straw and chaff are very useful as forage and fertilizers. 
But the grain — who can enumerate its uses? It is equally 
adapted to the wants of man and of beast ; it is suited to nearly 
all tastes and vain would be the attempt to say under how many 
forms it delights the palate. We enjoy it as a plain boiled vege- 
table, but how much more delightful it is in the nice desserts for 
which it is so much used. It is not only wholesome for the well, 
but nourishing, and, when properly prepared, nearly always appe- 
tizing to the sick. 

To her rice-fields, in great measure, Carolina owes her large 
and attractive feathered tribe. Although all our birds are not 
dependent on rice, yet, from the sweet-voiced mocking-bird to 
the chirping little ground-sparrow, they are all equally fond of it. 
Right dear to us in the summer time is the voice of our many- 
toned mocking-bird, as swaying from some slender limb he 
seems to bathe the whole world in a flood of song. Not less do 
we love the sad tones of our whippoorwill or the wild pigeon's 
soft coo. The gaily-plumed red and bluebirds illuminate the 
darkest shades of our lovely forests and enliven our homes by 
their bright presence. When the icy hand of winter has frozen 
summer pleasures and summer friends have flown, the cold north 
wind comes laden with immense flocks of our dear little rice- 
birds. These merry chatterers always come in large armies, each 
of which is under a wise leader's command. When they pass 
over the light is obscured, as by a dense cloud, and conversation 
is, for the time, impossible. These are our own ; they are genuine 
Carolinians, their appreciation of rice being, if anything, greater 

-ST. MARY'S MUSE. 127 

than ours. They are fine food and are not, as many .suppose, 
hurtful to rice; but rather useful, as they destroy the waste grain, 
which, by the following year, would degenerate into a trouble- 
some weed. 

Carolina was indeed blessed when to her special care was given 
this king among the cereals. She has never abused her charge; 
for nowhere has rice ever been so well cultivated and so fully 
valued, as in this, its first American home. 


As I lay last night snugly tucked in bed, the dormitory in 
darkness, and the girls around me long since sound asleep, the 
horrible reality of a composition to be handed in two days hence, 
stared me in the face. Pondering on a long list of subjects, and 
on my half-learned Latin lesson alternately, I felt that flight was 
my only refuge. Vague recollections of The Merchant of Venice, 
of Old Gobbo, and his son's happy escape, flitted through my 
mind, inspiring a resolution to fly ; for verily the fiend was at my 
elbow, saying: — " Use your legs, take the start, run away!" My 
conscience said : "No; take heed, honest friend ; take heed; do not 
run, scorn running ivith thy heels." Well, the most courageous fiend 
bade me pack: "Via!" said the fiend; "away! for the Heavens! 
rouse up a brave mind and run!" Well, my conscience hanging 
about the neck of my heart, said: " My honest friend, budge not!" 
"Budge!" said the fiend ; "Budge xot!" said my conscience. 
"Conscience," said I, "you counsel well" — Doubtless the warmth 
of my bed and my very heavy eyelids weighed considerably on 
the side of conscience. Oh ! but the dreadful Latin ! I had entirely 
forgotten it in the exciting battle just given. If I could but remem- 
ber ! The subject of a finite verb is put in the Nominative — Verbs 
of accusing, acquitting and admonishing are followed by the Geni- 

128 ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 

tive of the Charge or Penalty. My composition ! what shall I write 
about! Happy thought — to have another bone-felon, and on my 
right thumb! No — it hurts too much, and besides we are going 
to have a candy-pull next week. Second happy thought — to 
have the mumps! No, we are going to a wedding reception; 
mumps not becoming — . Dative ! — Dative of charge, no, Ethical 
Dative! — Ablative denotes a — a — a — it was finished in 

Far from resting in the dormitory, I found myself seated in a 
corner of the grove, where I occasionally caught faint peals of 
laughter from my companions at play. It seemed that I had 
been told to write a composition on the Spectroscope, which did 
not suit me at all ; and here I sat moping, and as usual grudging 
every moment which brought me no idea. I was startled by 
voices in the air whispering all around me; and I could clearly 
distinguish the words, 

"The spectroscope shows us the lights of the stars, 
Of Jupiter, Venus, and Saturn, and Mars," 

as though intended for suggestions. Then a most extraordinary 
triangular figure approached me. "I," it said, "represent not 
only the subject of the finite verb to show, but the subject of 
your composition. Examine me well, and then describe me." 
Instead of taking these friendly aids, I became disgusted; and 
confident that I could never write anything, I joined my school- 
mates in a game of hide-and-seek. Suddenly I was grasped by 
the arm, and turning, heard a dreadful little creature say : " I, a 
verb of accusing, charge you with willful neglect of duty!" 
Frightened and ashamed to be thus addressed in presence of all 
my companions, I sped away to hide in some secluded corner of 
the house. In vain did I fly from room to room, seeking at every 
turn a haven of rest; everywhere I was pursued by a horrible 
vision. Whether running, walking, or cowering with my head 
buried in my hands, the same knowledge tormented me. I was 
a Latin pronoun, the laughing-stock of a hundred girls; tor- 
mented in the Dative, scorned in the Accusative, hissed in the 


Vocative ! There was no escape. Finally, falling down exhausted, 
I heard a voice at my ear, "Do yon not recognize the Genitive of 
the Penalty?" "Come here!" shrieked another voice; " I'll call 
her 'the Ablative'; she shall serve a master and learn to make 
herself useful." Looking up, I seemed to recognize the verb 
"fungor" but the horrid voice of "vescor" muttered, 

"Fi, fo, fara! 
I smell the blood " 

and a vast mouth was nearing me, when a little preposition 
rushed to my rescue. When I came to think of it, it was a great 
indignity to have been saved by such a tiny creature ! Should I 
be governed by an "ab"'? Alas for discontent! in a moment 
I found myself Absolute and alone. Threefold dejection, 
heightened by remorse, now possessed my soul, till seeing my 
former persecutors in the distance, I determined on revenge. A 
little Participle in-dus appearing by my side, cried, "It must be 
done! it must be done!" and away we ran on our direful errand. 
We overtook the two culprits, and we made them surrender. I 
placed myself at their head and forced them to respect my 
person. Xow all my foes were subdued. Little "ab" begged 
that his former services might be remembered, and at the Parti- 
ciple's graciously interceding, "You ought to do it," I was about 
to reward him, when — a loud ringing just outside the door 
startled me, and I awoke to find I had only dreamed. 


Tarboro is situated in the eastern part of North Carolina, on 
the Tar. The original and proper name of the river is "Tau" 
— the beautiful — and it seems a shame that it should have degen- 
erated into "Tar," which suggests unpleasant ideas. Tarboro is 
an old town and quite small considering its age, having only 
about twenty-five hundred inhabitants. Its progress has beeu 


greatly retarded by the fires from which it suffered during and 
just after the war; but within the last few years, having had 
scarcely any reverses to meet, it has so improved as to give reason 
to suppose that ere long it will be one of Carolina's leading cities. 
In 1829 Tarboro contained but nine business houses. The 
merchants worked hard, for the most part at pork-packing. 
Their business prospered and they were enabled to make great 
advances, both in their own condition and that of the village. 
But little ready money was required at this time, for people raised 
their own meat and bread-stuffs. The cultivation of cotton, to 
which the farmers now devote themselves almost exclusively, 
was not begun until 1836, and for some time it was considered of 
secondary importance. People raised such things as they required 
to eat, and after that devoted what spare time and land they had 
to cotton. The farmers were hardy, but generous and sociable, 
each helping his neighbor along. They had little to do with the 
outer world. Edgecombe was one of the largest slave-holding 
counties in the State ; her negroes were well treated and well 
managed, and there existed a kindly feeling between master and 
slave. Since the war, cotton cultivation has continued more and 
more to engross the attention of our Edgecombe farmer, till 
among the illiterate class, the only ambition is to raise as large a 
crop as possible; and no thought is given to the comforts and 
refinements of life. But I am happy to say this class is very 
small. As a rule, in carrying the culture of the soil to a high 
degree of perfection, the culture of the mind is not forgotten : 
the two are combined with very happy results ; and not only will 
a guest find ready and elegant hospitality in our country homes, 
but he will be charmed by the pleasant and often intellectual con- 
versation of his host and hostess. 

The climate is very equable ; the average temperature in winter 
being about 45°, and in summer about 80°. Snow rarely falls 
to a depth of more than two or three inches. The mildness of 
the climate makes Tarboro a good winter resort for consumptives 
and other invalids. Many Northerners prefer this place to the 
warmer climate of Florida. 


Tarboro has two hotels, both situated on Main Street. For 
tlie greater part of the year these are tilled with traveling sales- 
men, the business advantages of the town being great. There is 
a number of handsome stores that would do credit to many 
northern cities. The court-house is a fine building in the centre 
of the town. Many of the residences are very handsome, adorned 
with flower-gardens tastefully laid out. There are two saw and 
grist-mills, and a large iron-foundry near the depot, where the 
celebrated "Edgecombe Cotton-Planter" is made; ploughshares 
and other farming implements, from the largest to the smallest, 
are also manufactured. 

One great drawback to Tarboro has been the lack of railroad 
communication. Until lately there has been but one railroad ; 
but, recently, another has been built from Tarboro to Williamston, 
affording greater facilities for travel in the eastern part of the 
State. The river offers one mode of transit; but it is navigable 
during only a small part of the year, owing to the scarcity of 
water; yet it sometimes overflows its banks, causing considerable 
damage to crops. 

Quail-hunting seems to be the most popular diversion. There 
is also an occasional fox or deer-hunt. We have an Opera House 
which is sometimes visited by theatrical companies, whose enter- 
tainments are generally pleasant and well attended. 

Wandering down by the railroad, through the western part of 
Tarboro, our attention is attracted by a pretty clump of trees. 
We descend a little hill and find ourselves in a delightfully cool 
and shady place by a spring of pure, sparkling water. This is 
called " Spout Spring," and it is said that no one who tastes its 
waters can leave Tarboro forever. Almost immediately opposite 
the spring, on the eastern outskirts of the town, is the Episcopal 
Church-yard, the pride and beauty of Tarboro. The shrubbery 
was planted by Dr. C, who has been our rector fur more than 
forty years. It contains specimens of trees and shrubs from 
almost eveiy clime. When our rector took charge of the parish, 
what is now the church-yard was a rugged field, not even enclosed. 
Now there is hardly a prettier spot in the State. In order to 



see its beauties one must enter the enclosure. About ten steps 
from the front gate stands a large live oak, whose branches spread 
over a whole square, and whose cool shade seems to invite you to 
rest beneath its boughs. Passing on, we come to the rector's burial- 
lot, in which are several small graves, and at the head of each is 
a beautiful yew clipped in pyramidal form, serving as a monument 
and, at the same time, presenting a most beautiful and unique 
appearance. Turning to the right, we come to the side door of 
the church. From this there is a long arch formed by the over- 
lapping of silver and Norway firs. On the north side of the 
church is a small ravine, and on the edges of this is a number of 
trees completely enveloped in honeysuckles, jessamine, and climb- 
ing roses. The air is redolent with perfume. Among the rarest 
shrubs in the church-yard are, the copal varnish tree from China; 
a weeping arborvitse from Tartary; a sweet olive from Greece; 
also a Chinese tea-plant, a cork-tree, English yews and English 
holly, cedars from Lebanon and the Himalaya Mountains, and 
Apollo's laurel that came from Athens, whose leaves were once 
used to crown poets, conquerors, and warriors. One of the chief 
beauties of the yard and the most remarkable is that flowers 
bloom there throughout the whole year. Entwining themselves 
around the tombs they seem to caress the dead and comfort the 
living. The church is a beautiful brick edifice densely covered 
with ivy, the stained glass windows peeping out among the green. 
This ivy is quite historic, having been raised from a sprig brought 
by Prof. Caldwell of the University of North Carolina from 
Kenilworth Castle, England. The north walk leading to the 
vestry-room is fringed with Kalmia, Azaleas, and Rhododendrons. 
The mellow tones of the bell invite us to enter God's Temple. 
We pass through an ivy-covered tower into the interior. The 
first thing which meets our eye is a brilliant representation of the 
" Star in the East," around which are the words : " We have seen 
His Star in the East, and have come to worship Him." Just 
over the altar is a beautiful window representing the Crucifixion. 
There are several handsome memorial windows. The furniture 
is of carved oak, English style. On the right is the organ- 


gallery containing an instrument of the finest quality. Indeed 
all the surroundings cannot fail to impress one with the solemnity 

of the place. We give a final look around ere departing, then 
descend the broad marble steps, pass again down the pretty, 
graveled walk, through the little wicket-gate, into the quiet street 
in front. Xear by is the ivy-clad parsonage, and here and there 
a pretty dwelling. Passing these by, we once more enter the heart 
of the town. We see the happy children parading the streets, we 
see the nurses rolling the worrying baby-carriages along, we see 
the thriving merchants displaying their varied store to the critical 
eye of fair young misses, we see the pretty jewelers' shops, 
we hear the clang of the court-house bell, observe the negroes 
thron^ino- into its walls, and notice also how they doff their hats 
at the sight of the well-known lawyer. We observe mentally 
"Tarboro is a thriving town." Then we return to our hotel; we 
imagine a Summer afternoon, when the band is playing and 
the young are dancing, and we observe, " Tarboro is not ouly 
thriving; but Tarboro is pretty, Tarboro is enjoyable." 


It was during the latter part of the winter as I was trying to 
make up my mind to return North, that I received a pressing 
invitation from an old friend to prolong my visit South, by spend- 
ing several weeks in the old-fashioned village of Cameron. It 
would take a long time to tell all the pleasure of that visit, and 
of the many interesting objects which were to be seen at every 
tnrn. One bright morning as I was going towards the dairy, I 
spied in the distance what appeared to be a village of little blue 
houses, about two feat high. As I approached them a buzzing 
noise told me that this was the dominion of the Bees. During 
the following weeks of the first Spring weather I spent many 
pleasant hours among the hives, and learned many interesting 
things about the Bees. 


The Bee most familiar to us is the old-time Black Bee, but of 
late its place has almost been usurped by the Italian Bee, thought 
to be superior on account of the greater length of its proboscis, 
which enables it to suck the honey from the long-necked flowers. 
It is, also, larger than the Black Bee. The inmates of the hive 
consist of three distinct groups. First to be mentioned, on account 
of rank, is the Queen. Her sole aim consists in laying as many 
eggs as possible : she averages three thousand in the course of 
twenty-four hours. The males, commonly known as drones, hold 
a very unimportant place in the estimation of the little workers, 
or neuters, of which each hive contains about twenty thousand. 
As soon as the cold weather comes, these, unwilling to support so 
many idlers by the fruits of their own hard labor, sting them to 
death. Sometimes the Bees are so unfortunate as to lose their 
Queen. In that case they at once enlarge the cell that would 
produce a working Bee and feed it upon royal jelly. Whenever 
any of the Bees swarm the old Queen goes with them, and leaves 
the hive in charge of a young Queen. Should the season prove 
a dry one and flowers scarce, many of the Bees fall a prey to dis- 
ease and death ; this calamity can be easily averted by feeding 
the little creatures on sugar and water. If there are any flowers, 
however, to be found, the Bees will be sure to find them ; they 
will go a distance of seven miles in search of honey. But the 
flowers are not their only resource; a large amount of honey 
comes from fruit. If the fruit happens to have a decayed spot 
or a hole punctured in it by a bird, the Bee very soon finds the 
hole, and crawls in to load himself with honey. More than one 
person has fallen a prey to the sting of some irritable Bee, by 
picking up an apparently perfect pear or peach which had fallen 
on the ground, only to find the under side covered with these 
greedy little Bees, who immediately enforce their right of proprie- 
torship by inflicting a sting upon the intruder. Whenever the 
honey is taken from the hive the Bees hang round ready to seize 
with avidity the smallest particle that is dropped, and it is utterly 
impossible to get rid of them. They will oppress the weak 
whenever an opportunity of so doing occurs; only let a strong 


and flourishing hive find out that their neighbors are not so pros- 
perous, and they will immediately pay them a visit. If they 
meet with any resistance, they sting their opponents to death ; if 
not, they retire from the field, conquerors laden with spoil, and 
allow the defeated Bees to assist them in removing the honey: 
after which they generously admit this vanquished hive to live 
with them. Yet should an owner of Bees desire at any time to 
unite two small swarms he will have plenty of trouble. An 
uninvited guest is nowhere so unwelcome as in a bee-hive. The 
creatures will detect the most quiet of strangers by his smell and 
straightway sting him to death ; and if two hives be joined, each 
will kill the Queen of the other. There is one way to outwit 
them: kill one of the Queens yourself and wet the Bees so 
thoroughly with peppermint that they all smell alike. 

The hives now used are a great improvement on those of the 
past. These consisted simply of a rough wooden box and into 
this box the Bees were poured. They had to construct their comb 
as best they could, without the aid of neat little frames and boxes 
to build on ; nor could any defence be made against their deadly 
foe, the moth. This moth, if allowed, will enter the hive and 
lay its eggs in the cells of the little Bees ; from these eggs come 
the worms which frequently destroy the whole hive. The new- 
fashioned hives are constructed with the view of keeping out the 
troublesome enemies. The inside, too, instead of consisting of 
one compartment, is divided into several. The upper story of 
the hive is composed of four boxes, the tops of which are made 
of glass so that you can watch the Bees at work and can see when 
the comb is full of honey. If the honey be left in the hive the 
Bees will soon eat it up. The top of the hive can be removed 
without disturbing the lower part and the boxes- taken out and 
emptied of their contents. An experienced hand can rob his 
hives with very little trouble. First of all with a small con- 
trivance constructed for the purpose, he gives them a good smok- 
ing. The smoke is made by the burning of old cotton rags and it 
quiets them by stupefying their senses. There are a few things 
necessary for the person who intends robbing the hives : first, 


his face must be protected from the stings of the Bees, and this is 
done, by a gauze veil ; then he must have a pair of rubber gloves ; 
the veil and gloves should be very carefully tucked under his 
coat, or a sly Bee will soon find his way in and sting him. The 
sting of a Bee, as some of us can testify, is extremely painful ; 
and the injured flesh becomes very much swollen and inflamed, 
unless some remedy, such as soda, be applied immediately after 
the removal of the sting. Formerly, when the hives were robbed, 
the poor little Bees were deprived, not only of their honey, but 
of the comb; consequently they were employed just twice as 
long in filling the hive again. But by means of a late invention, 
the Extractor, the honey can be removed from the comb without 
injury to the latter. This Extractor is a large zinc cylinder, con- 
structed on the principle of centrifugal force; in this cylinder the 
frames are placed after having been uncapped on one side of the 
comb. The Bees will often fill the comb in two days after the 
honey has been removed. This Extractor saves not only time, 
but honey as well ; for, to make one pound of comb the Bee has 
to eat at least twenty pounds of honey. 

Bees are very generally raised in the South, but on a scale 
which is small compared with the Bee ranches of California. 
However, the quantity of honey is likely to be proportionally 
greater, as we have no large flocks of sheep to trample our flowers 
under foot and destroy the food of the Bees. 


On the window-sill of- the large school-room at St. Mary's 
stood a box of chalk, and among many others there was this one 
piece whose history I am going to tell. It stayed there for many 
days, until one morning a young lady of the geometry class was 
sent by her teacher to get a piece of chalk to draw the figure for 
a proposition. She lingered there for some moments trying to 


decide which piece she should take, for they all looked large and 
white. At last she picked up our little hero, which she thought 
looked a little larger and whiter than the others. She took it to 
the board and began to draw; it seemed very soft, and she 
thought that helped her to draw her lines so straight, her circles 
so exact and enabled her to get a great deal of praise from her 
teacher. After she had finished she put it down, and a little girl, 
coining through the room and seeing it, picked it up and began 
throwing it up and catching it. The poor little piece of chalk 
trembled with fear, for it thought every moment that the child 
would let it fall and break. Well ; she went out into the hall 
and threw it up again, but instead of catching it, she let it fall 
down the steps. It stayed there for some days very ill, until one 
day when the servant was sweeping the hall, she happened to see 
it among some other trash and dirt which she was about to throw 
in the large trash-box just outside the back door. She picked it 
out and brought it into the little children's recitation-room and 
put it in the chalk-box upon the table. 

It stayed there for many days in peace, until one day a little 
girl in the arithmetic class was sent to the board to work an 
example. After she had finished it, she looked at the chalk 
before putting it in the box and said to herself: " What a pretty, 
soft and white piece this is, and what a nice little cup it will 
make. I believe I will take it." So accordingly she slipped it 
into her apron pocket. She went to her seat and got out her 
knife, and, after getting three or four disorder marks for making 
so much noise, she finished a beautiful little cup. 

After school she presented it to her teacher, who thought it 
very pretty, and took it over to her room and put it on her man- 

It remains there now, as pretty as ever, touched by no one 
except the servant when she dusts off the shelf, and she is as 
careful with it as its owner herself. 

So our little piece of chalk is at last at rest. 



Leipzig, November 2, 1882. 

Yesterday was that most beautiful of all days, "All Saints' 
Day" ; aud even here in this cloud-laden atmosphere, there was a 
fine, clear, peaceful air over everything, which accorded well with 
the spirit of the day. In the morning, there was, as usual on 
Wednesdays, a Probe of great interest, from which, with Miss 
S. and Miss H., I went to church, where I heard the ever beauti- 
ful services of the day. My beloved " Fidelio " was to be given at 
the theatre in the evening ; and as the greatest treat I could possibly 
have, and also as one of the most elevating and ennobling influences 
to touch the soul, I went to hear this highest and best of operas. 
Miss S. was with me, and in spite of the prejudices of the family 
in which she lives, which, being a " high and mighty " family, 
objects to having one of its members go up into the Second Rank 
(where I always go, you know), we occupied one of those 
places, where, for the delightful price of thirty cents, you can hear 
and see distinctly and well, in perfect comfort and respectability, 
the finest operas and plays. I was very anxious to know how 
Agnes would like this opera of Beethoven's, with whose beauty 
and grandeur I am quite carried away; and although she is not 
one of the enthusiastic kind, I think that she enjoyed it in her 
quiet way, perhaps nearly as much as I did. * * 

Day before yesterday was a grand festival and holiday every- 
where, and I must tell you something about it. It was some 
anniversary connected with Luther and the Reformation — I am 
ashamed to say that I do not know exactly w T hich — and the day 
on which the students, over three thousand in number, of the 
famous University here, elect their annually-chosen President, or 
"rector." The students, in grand style of dress, with all the 
orders and ornaments of their different societies, go in procession 
(the Professors also with them), in carriages, on horseback, and 
on foot, to the University Church, where, with due form and 
ceremony, the old rector is divested of his official robes and ensigns, 


which are conferred upon his successor. This part of the cere- 
monies I was unable to sec, as none were admitted to the church 
besides the professors, their families, and the students. In the 
evening, there was a grand torch-light procession, to see which 
we all went into the town, and stationed ourselves on one of the 
public squares. After waiting about an hour, surrounded by a 
large concourse of people, our patience was rewarded by a full 
sight of the interesting scene; the students, most of them with 
upturned collars, overcoats on wrong side out, and smoke- 
becrrimed faces, marching in Indian file on both sides of the street 
close by the sidewalks, bearing, brandished aloft in their right 
hand, a glaring torch of pitch and tar, were heralded by bands 
of music; while in the middle of the street were the riders, and 
carriages containing the more distinguished members of the fra- 
ternities. It was a wild and rather exciting scene ; the students, 
not being over-careful, occasionally dropping fragments from 
their burning torches upon the ragged urchins or too-curious 
lookers-on. * * * * * 

December -3. — To-day, having dined off a favorite dish (not 
of mine, but of the family's) Kartoffel-mtiss and sausages, and 
having gotten on my ulster and hat, I rushed off to call for 
Miss S., as I had promised, and attend with her the "Motette" 
in the St. Thomas Church. We always go on Saturdays at half 
past one to hear these religious songs, or Motettes, which are 
given without fail the vear through. There is a verv large school 
for boys attached to the Thomas Kirche to prepare them for the 
University, and out of carefully selected voices among them, a 
most beautiful chorus is arranged and trained to excellence by a 
skilled teacher. I have never heard anything more lovely or 
touching than the tones of the young, clear voices (I had no idea 
what voices young boys have) uplifted in these grand melodies, 
some of which date back to the very earliest days of German 
music. The school is endowed (by the State, I believe) and a 
very large number of the boys arc non-paying recipients of its 
benefits and bounties. Anything that they can earn is of course 
very acceptable as pocket-money; so they are allowed to hire their 


services as singers on funeral occasions, etc.; and I remember how 
I enjoyed hearing them sing out in the grave-yard beside the beau- 
tifully decorated graves, on Johannis-Tag (the twenty-fourth of 
June, about which I wrote you). 

The Motette on Saturdav was as beautiful as usual, with one or 
two solos by those high, pure voices. Agnes and I enjoyed our 
walk home through the snow, catching on our muffs (which 
showed them to wonderful perfection) the star-shaped flakes 
which fell so thickly and yet lightly around us. When I reached 
home, I found that Frau B. and M. were going out to some place 
at the other end of never to hunt up a dress-maker, and they 
invited me to join them, but I could not as I had an amount of 
harmony-work to do, on which I pored away until time to get 
ready for the Kammer-musik, which took place that evening. 
After taking a glass of beer and some bread and butter to sus- 
tain me during the performance, I started at half past five for the 
Gerwandhaus. The Concert does not begin until half past six, 
but in order to secure a good place in the gallery, it is necessary 
to go very early. 

The programme included a Quartette of Mozart, a Quintette 
of Jadassohn (my teacher) and a Quartette of Beethoven's, all 
for stringed instruments with the exception of the Quintette, in 
which the piano played an important part. That good old Jew, 
Jadassohn, with his sharp, wrinkled, nervous face, sat with his 
buxom and blooming wife, in one of the boxes next to the gal- 
lery ; and I am sure both their hearts ought to have been rejoiced 
by the favorable reception his composition met with. The critical 
and select audience below were enthusiastic in their expressions 
of admiration, and if the house had not had very firm founda- 
tions, it would have been brought down by the tumultuous 
clapping of the students above, in which you may be sure I 
joined. I never heard Reinecke play with more interest and 
spirit than he did in this Quintette; he just went at it with all 
his heart, and his beautiful and faultless rendering was not needed 
to give to the piece what it already possessed — lovely harmonies 
and real feeling. Reinecke sent up for Jadassohn to come down 


and make his bow of thanks to the audience; hut the latter 
apparently sent a courteous refusal and remained where he was. 
Maim 'ii 11, 188o. — We Conservatorists have just been grati- 
fied by one of the greatest pleasures which could fall to our share 
— namely, the appearance of the wonderful and glorious Clara 
Schumann. You may imagine my excitement and delight 
when I woke up one morning - to find in the Tageblatt the 
announcement that she was to play in the next Kammer-musik, 
on Saturday of the same week. * * Although I went very 
early, I found the long broad stone stairs which lead up to our 
entrance to the Gerwandhaus completely filled and blocked up 
with the crowd of eager students, male and female, anxious to 
secure good places. The seats in the galleries, which are given 
up for the accommodation of the pupils, are not reserved in any 
way, and each one has to make for the best he can get. We had 
to stand half an hour on the cold stone steps in the midst of the 
crowd always growing denser, and you can scarcely imagine the 
jamming and pushing which took place when the narrow door of 
the iron grating was opened, and this vast crowd endeavored to 
push as fast as possible through the small opening. At length, 
after being jostled and elbowed, shoved and crushed by the peo- 
ple behind and to the right and left of me, until there was very 
little breath left in my body, I found myself before the door and 
was swept in with one great heave of the swaying mass. I was 
so fortunate as to get a place in the second row — in fact, I never 
dreamed of trying for the first one — from which I could see 
quite well all that passed on the stage. I have never had highly- 
raised expectations so fully satisfied as they were on this occa- 
sion. When the dignified form, and the beautiful and noble old 
face of the great musician appeared in the door-way, the whole 
audience rose to its feet with cries of greeting and thundering 
claps of welcome; and when the wonderful tones of her playing 
were heard, I think every heart was touched and melted into a 
common joy and sympathy. She played only a Somite of 
Beethoven's, Op. 81 a, full of the deepest and most heart-stirring 
feeling, and in a Quintette of Robert Schumann's ; but we have 


the prospect of hearing her again in the Probe, which will be 
the last of the season. It was so wonderful to see this old lady 
— she is now sixty-three — with almost white hair, sit down at 
the piano and play with such perfect technique and such deep 
and lively feeling. She was plainly dressed in a black satin, 
open at the throat, where she wore lace and a diamond brooch, a 
spray of purple flowers below ; on her head, a black lace cap, or 
rather head-dress. I liked her face so much ; it was so full of intel- 
lect and yet so womanly and gentle, a little worn with sorrow, but 
with the kindliest and most cheerful expression still there. * * 
We have been undergoing for the last few days a real siege of 
the most disagreeable winter weather, quite a heavy fall of snow 
accompanied by that sharp, severe wind which seems to be para- 
mount among the weather characteristics in Leipzig. The snow 
is so thick that sleighs were to be seen yesterday, but it is chang- 
ing into mud rapidly, without, however, much change for the 
better in the temperature. 

We have prospects of the most glorious Probe to-morrow, with 
a Symphonie and Concerto of Schumann's, an Overture of Schu- 
bert, and other solo-pieces played by the Frau Doctor Clara 



Mademoiselle Peine usually dined with Madame Zaphet; the 
other women eat their meals in a small room near the office. As 
for Nanine, Avho always made her dinner on a piece of bread and 
cheese, she remained in the workshop. These few moments were 
the brightest part of her day. After having eaten her meagre 
pittance, she would get up on Noel's stool, press her little face 
against the window-panes, and watch the passers-by. Dinner 
lasted an hour; it was a respite. At seven o'clock, every one 


returned to the workshop. That evening, Mademoiselle Reine 
came in with a triumphant air; she was speaking in a low voice 
to the women who surrounded her. 

"It is not possible!" said the first, leaning towards her neigh- 
bor, and letting her into the secret she had just heard. The latter 
contented herself with replying that she was not at all surprised, 
and whispered the story to the next one; thus it made the round 
of the shop. One of the women left the room, and returning 
soon, exclaimed : 

"I had to see for myself before I could believe it! this is a 
promising beginning !" 

And she cast an indignant glance at Nanine. The poor child 
was accustomed to the snappishness of these girls; and having 
absolutely nothing to reproach herself with, she kept quiet not- 
withstanding the storm, which was not long in bursting over her 

Madame Zaphet appeared, followed by Paul, holding in his 
hand a slice of bread and preserves which he was watering with 
his tears. 

"My poor angel!" said the mother, pale with anger, "don't 
cry, ray treasure! I will make it all right!" 

The most profound silence reigned among the working-women ; 
every eye was fixed on Nanine. 

"Wretched child!" roared Madame Zaphet, "not content with 
not earning the money I give you, do you steal my children's 

" I!" cried Nanine, turning as white as a sheet. 

"Do you deny it, shameless child? Does not this condemn 
you?" and she drew from under her apron Cadiche, still wrapped 
in the child's cloak. 

"But Madame! . . ." 

"Did you take and hide it?" 


" Ye-e-es," stammered the little one. 
" She confesses it," cried Mademoiselle Reine. 
"But I did not mean to take it away, I assure you, Madame," 
replied Nanine. 


" Tell that to somebody else ! Ah, your mother has not come 
to the end of her troubles; you'll make her see sights! As for 
me, I want no more of you ! I dismiss you ! . . . Made- 
moiselle Heine, you will take her home ; there are eighteen sous 
for her three days' work : you will give them to her mother 
and inform her of her daughter's fine behavior. Come, Paul, 
all this worries you, my treasure ? no wonder ! Put in your 
tongue, my son ; it is not worth your while to make faces at her. 
Make haste, Mademoiselle Peine, I don't like things to drag." 

" Madame, madame," Nanine tried to say. 

" That will do, that will do !" said Madame Zaphet, and she 
left the room. Paul followed her, dragging Cadiche by the feet. 

Without noticing the tears which were almost stifling the poor 
child, Mademoiselle Reine took the wet cloak in which the doll 
had been wrapped, and, throwing it over Nanine's shoulders, 
motioned the child to follow her. 

" Oh ! no, no ! . . . " gasped Nanine, whose little chest 
heaved convulsively as though it would burst. 

Tears, entreaties, all" were in vain; she must obey; she must 
follow this vixen, who, satisfied with her triumph, did not see 
what harm she was doing, but on the contrary, thought she was 
doing the child a favor by correcting her vicious nature ! . . . 
There are people whom folly and vanity render cruel ; Made- 
moiselle Reine was one of them. 

More than one of the working-women felt troubled at Nanine's 
grief, but none dared show her feeling. Yet if Noel had been 
there, he would have defended her. The little girl glanced de- 
spairingly at his empty place, but was roughly seized by the arm, 
and compelled to follow the forewoman. Harsh as was the sup- 
port she lent her, it was necessary ; the child's limbs were trem- 
bling so violently that she would otherwise surely have fallen. 
The way from St. Catherine's street to the height of Gourguillon, 
where Nanine lived, was long. There was a thick mist which 
stopped your breath and froze you at the same time. The poor 
child cried no longer, her head was burning ; it seemed to her 


that everything was turning round; cold beads of sweat stood 

upon her brow; she walked as in a dream, understanding noth- 
ing that happened to her. 

Jeanne had just come home and was making the supper ready 
when Mademoiselle Reine came in, leading Nanine. 

"Here is your daughter! Madame does not want her any 
longer ! Not satisfied with being idle, she steals ! Here is what 
they owe you, and good-bye." 

No words can tell the impression this speech made on Jeanne; 
she looked at the child, then seizing the arm of the forewoman 
who was already half across the threshold of the open door, she 
exclaimed, "No, no! you shall not go this way! What has the 
child stolen?" 

"Master Paul's beautiful doll," replied Mademoiselle Reine. 

Jeanne turned very pale. 

" Where is the doll ?" she asked of Nanine, M'ho was looking 
at her imploringly. 

" O, what a fool you are !" said the forewoman, trying to free 
herself from Jeanne's grasp, "you think that they let her keep 
it? They took it away, but just in time, for the little witch had 
wrapped it up in her cloak to carry it off." 

"Is this true, Nanine?" 

The child hung her head. 

"Will you answer? did you mean to steal this doll?" 

"No! no! Mamma!" 

" Little liar !" cried Mademoiselle Reine, " was it in your 
cloak ? yes or no ?" 

" Yes." 

" Who put it there ?" said Jeanne, in anguish. 

"I . . . " murmured Nanine, and she began to cry again. 

" You see," said the forewoman, standing by the door, "she 
will give you work to do ; watch that child ! she has every pos- 
sible vice." 

Two or three neighbors had planted themselves in the hall ; 
as she passed by, Mademoiselle Reine acquainted them with the 
mission she had just fulfilled, and went out after this performance 


with a light and easy step ; she did not weigh an ounce, she was 
freed of that hateful child. 

What was the cause of her hatred? She herself could not 
tell; hers was a low and narrow mind, which folly had completely 
filled, leaving no place for kindness; besides, she had to vent her 
spleen on some one; so much the worse for the one in her way. 
Unfortunately, there are more such natures in the world than 
we think for. Folly is sometimes cured, but a false mind can 
never be rectified. 

After her departure, Jeanne approached jNTanine. 

"You think, then, that I am not already sufficiently unhappy, 
you bad child? What am I to do with you now? Who will 
have you when they learn what you have done ?" 

" Mamma, I. did not mean to carry it off, I do assure you. I 
put it in my cloak, it is true, but it was to dry it because it had 
been thrown into the trough ; forgive me, mamma ! but I did not 
steal it ! it is not true ! Oh, forgive me, forgive me !" 

And the child wrung her hands. 

"Very well!" said Jeanne, more moved than she cared to 
appear. "You will kneel now at the foot of your bed, and you 
shall have dry bread for your supper." 

" Oh ! mamma, do not give me anything to eat ! I will kneel 
as long as you wish, only do not believe that I stole anything. 
I did not steal ! The good God must certainly tell you that I 
did not steal; you will believe Him !" . . . 

The other children coming in caused much embarrassment to 
Nanine; she remained silently on her knees, and did not touch 
her bread. She fell into a kind of stupor; one might have 
thought she was sleeping but for the deep sighs that came from 
her poor little heart. 

When all the family had gone to sleep, the mother, who had 
thought she ought to make an example of JNanine, went to the 
shivering child, undressed her, and put her in her own bed, quite 
anxious at finding the little head and hands burning. But in the 
middle of the night, the child began to talk ; her mother tried to 
quiet her, but in vain. She was delirious ; she no longer knew 


any one; she called her father to witness that she was not guilty. 
Cadiche, Mademoiselle Reine, and Madame Zaphet, danced a 
furious jig through her little brain. Towards five o'clock in the 
morning, she seemed to be soothed and quieted; then there came 
a strange sound in her breast; one would have said it was the 

Jeanne waited very impatiently for the dawn that she might go 
for a doctor; the other children were sleeping like dormice. 

Just as Jeanne was starting out, she met good Noel, who, on 
learning what happened, had gone so far as to tell Mademoiselle 
Reine that perhaps she herself had hidden the doll in Nanine's 
cloak; a lively scene followed, and Madame Zaphet had declared 
that if it continued, she would dismiss them both. As both 
liked their situations, silence ensued; but Noel decided to go 
early the next morning to see his little protegee, and to assure her 
as well as her mother that he did not believe a word of this 
wicked story. The kind man came too late, the evil was done. 
His arrival, however, was fortunate, as it allowed the mother to 
stay with her child while he went for Doctor Larocque, physician 
in charge of the Hotel-Dieu, as famed for his learning as for the 
abruptness which has become proverbial. He had formerly saved 
Noel's daughter; so to the latter, the doctor was a god. 

He was a tall man with firm features, deep-set eyes, shaded by 
thick brows, and a piercing glance. His pale face and broad 
forehead looked as if chiseled in marble; his face in repose had 
something icy about it, tempered by an exquisite smile. He 
approached Nanine, took her burning hand, sounded her narrow 
chest. . . . 

" You should have called me sooner," said he to the mother, 
who was looking at him with a terrified air. 

"Alas, sir! she was taken this way only last night." Then 
she told the doctor everything that had happened. He jerked 
up his chin. 

"She is very sick and cannot be cared for here; wrap her up 
in blankets, and do you, Noel, carry her carefully to my carriage. 
I am going to take her to the hospital." 


" To the hospital!" exclaimed Jeanne in a fright. 

" Why, yes, to the hospital," said the doctor coldly ; " do you 
think it was built for dogs? You are all alike with your old 
prejudices; the hospital! . . . Yes, the hospital, where you 
will find everything that is wanting in your miserable home ! the 
first physicians, proper medicine, nice white linen, an equal tem- 
perature, punctuality in the application of remedies, quiet ! . . ." 

" But sir," Jeanne attempted to say. 

" There is no but about it, it must be done," said the doctor. 
" Stop, here is a permit for you to enter when you wish." 

After making sure that the air could not reach the child, he 
signed to Noel to descend, and taking again the name and surname 
of the little one, he went away. The mother, raising her hands, 
her eyes filled with tears, followed him to the foot of the stair- 
case without a word. Stopping in front of the carriage where 
Noel was already installed, with Nanine, it seemed to the poor 
woman that she was seeing her child for the last time, and she 
could not restrain a sob ; the doctor cut her short by giving the 
order to start. She did not leave the spot until the carriage had 
disappeared ; then she went up-stairs with a very heavy heart, 
prepared soup for the children, and each one went to his work. 

At mid-day, Jeanne presented herself at the Hotel-Dieu ; the 
gates were opened to her by the doctor's permit. She came to 
Saint Mary's ward, where she saw Nanine lying in a little white 
bed, a nun by the side of her pillow. The fever was no lower, 
the child did not recognize her mother, and in her delirium, talked 
only of Cadiche. 

" Oh ! Sister, will my child die ?" 

" Trust in God, madame," said the nun in a sweet, sad voice. 

Jeanne kneeled down weeping ; it seemed to the poor woman 
that the little being lying there on a bed of suffering, was the one 
to whom her heart most clung ; she blamed herself, thought she 
had been cruel to punish her for the story of that wicked Made- 
moiselle Reine. What would she not have given that all this 
had not happened ! Oh ! how fervently she prayed ! It seemed 


at one moment that God had answered her prayer. Nanine 
stopped her babbling and appeared to sleep. The mm rose 
quietly and signed to the mother to take her place. 

The latter sank into her chair, her eyes fixed on the dear little 
pale face, watching for her first look. An hour passed, an hour 
of anguish, yet of hope ; sleep is such a powerful restorer. The 
fever was diminishing ; Jeanne held Nanine's thin little hand 
in her own. When the child once more opened her eyes, a pretty 
smile parted her lips : " Mamma !" she said. Jeanne uttered a 
cry ; her child had recognized her. The nun ran to her quickly 
and begged her to retire in order not to fatigue or agitate the lit— 
tie one. Jeanne went away with a heart full of hope. Poor 
mother ! Nanine followed her with her eyes as long as she could 
see her ; the nun gave her her medicine, and the child slept again. 

When Doctor Larocque returned in the evening, he shook his 
head gravely, changed the medicine, and told the nun not to leave 
the child: then he walked around the ward casting on all the 
invalids terrible looks which frightened no one, for they all knew 
well that the good doctor was angry only with the disease, and 
that the harsh look out of his eyes had no other aim than to 
drive it away. 

The two days which followed wrought no apparent change in 
Nanine's condition. The next day, which was Sunday, Jeanne 
came to install herself for the whole morning. Towards two 
o'clock in the afternoon, good Noel, followed by Madame Zaphet 
and her dear Paul, carrying Cadiche in his arms, made his appear- 
ance. On seeing them, Nanine caught her breath. 

Madame Zaphet was quick and passionate, but not bad at heart. 
She was very sorry to see the ravages which sickness had made on 
this poor little being; she regretted her hasty action. As for 
Paul, his eyes wandered from Nanine to Cadiche ; he would have 
liked to say something, but the words would not come; he began 
to cry ; was it at seeing Nanine so sick ? No, truth compels me to 
acknowledge that the little rascal was crying because his mother 
had told him he must give Cadiche to Nanine, perhaps that would 
cure her; at all events, it would give her pleasure, and to make it 


up to him, she would buy him a much more beautiful doll. But 
she had forgotten that it was Sunday and the shops were closed; 
it was impossible to replace Cadiche. Now, Master Paul was 
not generous, his feelings were more moved with regret than 
touched by the trouble which surrounded him. However, he had 
to give up ; he did it with little grace ! 

Poor Nanine could not believe her eyes and ears. Cadiche her 
own? Besides, Madame Zaphet was promising to take her back 
when she got well; Mademoiselle Reine had been dismissed; 
Noel was triumphant; Jeanne, quite content. 

It was too much good fortune ; more than Nanine's little heart 
could hold ; the following night was a bad one ; the fever returned 
with extreme violence. The next morning, the doctor found her 
very ill again. 

"What time does her mother come?" he asked of the sister. 
"At twelve : she left yesterday, quite happy." 
" Poor woman ! " 

" There is no longer any hope, Doctor ? " 
"No, all is over. There is no strength to bear excitement in 
this frail frame. The spirit has been too great for its prison," 
. . . and the doctor passed on to another patient. 
Nanine remained until eleven o'clock in a state of complete 
prostration; then she roused herself and asked for her mother. 
They told her that she was coming ; she made a sign for the sister 
to give her Cadiche, which they had put ou the shelf at the head 
of her bed ; but her poor little hands had not strength to hold it, 
and the doll rolled to the ground. The sister quickly picked it 
up and laid it on the bed beside the child. The latter thanked 
her with a sweet smile, and began murmuring something to 
Cadiche. The angels received her words, for they were waiting 
to carry the little one's soul to heaven! . . . When her 
mother arrived, she thought her child was sleeping. She had 
indeed entered into her heavenly rest ! 

O you who have the charge of souls, magistrate, father, mother, 
teacher, master or mistress of the work -shop, look with your own 


eyes ! be just! These are big words about a very little girl, it is 
true; but generalize, and say to yourselves that Xauine represents 
one member of this great body of humble, feeble, suffering 
beings, whose natural guardians you are. Say to yourselves that 
the day will come when you shall render your account not to 
society alone, but to the Creator of all ! 



New Hampshire has been called the Switzerland of America. 
Its lofty peaks, verdant valleys, and winding rivers call to mind 
" those far off mountains and sunny vales, whose beauty has been 
the theme of centuries." But New Hampshire is not Switzer- 
land's only rival. Western Xorth Carolina is considered by 
many to possess scenery of equal beauty and grandeur. 

Till within the last few vears this countrv has not been easilv 
accessible, and even now it is not traversed without some danger. 
The recently completed railroad winds from peak to peak : now we 
look from dizzy heights into great chasms, now we find ourselves 
shut in by a precipitous mountain wall ; then winding round still 
more dizzv curves, and then through dark and o-loomv tunnels. 
At six o'clock we reach Henry's, a small station on the east of 
the Blue Ridge, and twenty miles from Asheville. Here the 
passengers take breakfast. Being very tired and sleepy, they do 
not feel much inclined to get up at so early an hour, but when 
refreshed by a cup of delightful coffee and steak, such as you 
might find at the St. Nicholas, they are equal to anything. AVhen 
the time for starting comes, all the lovers of mountain scenery 
rush frantically to get a seat in the open car. Soon the ascent 
becomes very steep. On either side of the road, large rocks pro- 
ject so far as almost to touch the car. Looking out you see a 


track some hundred feet above, and wonder what it is : much to 
your surprise the conductor says you will be there in a few min- 
utes. In one place you have a glimpse of what seems to be three 
separate tracks, but which in reality is but one. Before reaching 
the top of the mountain the train passes through the long tunnel, 
the longest in North Carolina. This is decidedly the most dis- 
agreeable portion of the trip, for the smoke and cinders render it 
almost impossible to breathe. Yet even the tunnels on this west- 
ern road are beautiful to look at; cut in rich chocolate-colored 
stone, and draped with luxuriant vines, their entrances, except for 
the darkness beyond, are like triumphal arches. From here the 
descent is easy, and in less than two hours you are at Asheville. 
You are immediately surrounded by eager hackmen, each clamor- 
ously demanding that he shall be patronized. To any of the 
hotels is a drive of only five or ten minutes and by noon you 
may be settled in comparatively comfortable quarters. 

Asheville situated at the confluence of two beautiful rivers, 
the French Broad and the Swannanoa, is enclosed on every side 
by majestic mountains. Its elevation is two thousand two hun- 
dred and fifty feet. The beauty of the place lies not in the town 
itself, but in the surroundings. Besides the hotels, there is but 
one building of any size or note, the Court House. This is in 
the centre of the town and from its tower may be had a beautiful 
view of Asheville and its encircling hills. The hotels, though 
large, are by no means handsome. From the Swannanoa you 
have a superb view of the mountains. The town has been very 
much improved by the stores recently built, and it bids fair to be 
a thriving little business place as well as a pleasure and health 
resort. Some of the houses are built of native wood, and nearly 
every porch is brightened by handsome geraniums, heliotropes, 
and bright little blossoms too delicate for the wind and rain, 
which even in summer beat upon the gardens. 

There are many places around Asheville whence one may have 
beautiful views of the surrounding country. The chief of these 
are Connalley's, Bichmond Hill, Beaumont, Battery Porter, and 


One of the prettiest drives is to Conualley's. Starting from 
the Court House you drive through town some distance and then 
find yourself on the loveliest road, thickly shaded from the sum- 
mer sun. This cool and quiet lane continues to the handsome 
residence of Col. Counalley. Upon one side of the house is a 
lawn, on which a tennis ground is laid out. In front and on the 
other side are exquisite flowers and evergreens ; and in the midst 
of these is a sparkling fountain. Below us the calm Swannanoa 
moves softly through the willows which grow upon its banks, to 
join the noble French Broad, waiting like a bridegroom to receive 
his bride. Then these two, now one, flow on together until they 
lose themselves in the mighty Tennessee. In the distance are 
Craggy, the Domes, and the lofty peaks of Pisgah. In an 
entirely opposite direction from Conualley's, lies Richmond Hill. 
Crossing; the French Broad bridge we follow the river a short 
distance, then gradually ascend until we enter the road which 
leads directly to the hill. The drive to the summit winds round 
and round, until at last you find yourself at the very top. With 
the same mountain view as at Connalley's, only differing by rela- 
tive position, the greatest charm of Richmond Hill is the wide 
extent of its prospect. Asheville can be seen from the north- 
eastern side, but very much diminished by distance. By far the 
finest view can be obtained from the western side of the hill, 
where your eye follows the river until it loses itself in the moun- 
tains. The country is more sublime from Richmond Hill ; but 
at Connalley's, mountain, sky, and river blend with more perfect 
harmony, and the view is softer and more beautiful. At the foot 
of the hill the first thing to attract attention is a little spring- 
house and dairy. From the dairy you can get a glass of rich 
milk or sparkling spring-water. On the outskirts of the town 
is a hill, not very remarkable for its height, yet so noted 
for its sunsets, that visitors throng there every afternoon. This 
place was named by General Porter, when he made a battery 
there. In a short time it will doubtless become the park 
of Asheville. At present it can boast of but two boards by 
way of accommodation to weary walkers. These are placed 


upon the ground as seats. On Sundays the people enjoy the 
added luxury of an old broken bench which looks as if it might 
have been placed there by the first settlers of Asheville. Rumor 
says that in a short time a hotel is to be built on the top of the 
hill. A horseback ride across the Swannanoa and along; its 
banks brings you to Tennant's View. Two miles from town you 
ford the river, then the road skirts fertile valleys and climbs gen- 
tle hills. Just before reaching the view you mount the highest 
hill. The house is an old one built when people entertained 
their friends in large companies. It is very rambling, having had 
additions from time to time. The verandah commands a beauti- 
ful view. But although the principal peaks can be seen, they are 
not so sharply defined as from other points mentioned. One of 
the newest and prettiest drives is that of Takeoska Farm. It 
leads along the river, first on its banks and then higher up the hill. 

Never leave Asheville without having seen a sunrise from Beau- 
mont. Go to the mountain when all the world is clothed in the 
silver mist of early dawn ; station yourself upon the eastern side, 
and watch the god of day as he greets the tips of the highest 
mountains and announces his coming to the valley. Pisgah is 
the first to throw off the silver mantle, which still envelopes the 
lower heights. One by one the surrounding views unveil them- 
selves, and last of all the green hills and quaint homes of Ashe- 
ville gleam in the morning light. The birds pour forth their 
welcome in the most harmonious strains; the tiny blossoms lift 
their tender heads; the mosses and lichens are "gemmed with 
dew, and hung with fairy cobwebs." "It is as if the world were 
being newly created." 

Of the less fatiguing, longer trips the pleasantest is to Arden 
Park, ten miles south of Asheville. Leaving Asheville on the 
old stage or in carriage in the afternoon, we reach Arden just at 
sunset. The hotel is built on a low hill, on whose slope are 
cottages used in summer for some of the boarders; it is three 
stories high and from the observatory the view is wide. The 
whole house is built of the native woods of the mountains, and 
is curiously ornamented with auger holes in threes, while the 


ceilings are deeply carved and the stair-ways are painted in red 
and bine. The parlor is a handsome room rilled with fancy 
work and paintings done bv the lady of the The furni- 
tore is covered with decorated bagging. The ball-room is orna- 
mented like the parlor. 

Visitors at Asheville are constantly on the wing. They are 
either making the severer mountain trips to "Hickory Nut Gap," 
"Oesar's Head," "Black Dome," "Pisgah," or the "Koan," or 
exchanging visits with the guests of Warm Springs and Waynes- 
ville. It has been said that, the scenery at Waynesville surpasses 
that at Asheville. I cannot believe it possible. 

Asheville has steadily increased in popularity since the build- 
ing of the railroad. Its visitors had hitherto been confined to 
the people of the Carolinas, but now it is eagerly sought by 
travellers from both North and South. The air from May to 
October cannot be surpassed for purity and bracing properties. 
However warm the days may be in summer, blankets are always 
comfortable at night. The winter climate is very severe; snow 
bey-inniny; to fall early and the mountains being covered for the 

© © * © 

entire season. 


There had been a dreadful thunder-storm; for two hours the 
wrath of Jupiter had lasted and he had flung his terrible thunder- 
bolts about promiscuously. 

But after the storm had come the calm, and now all the 
western sky was one blaze of copper-color shading to glowing 
crimson and delicate rose as it neared the zenith, — the whole 
throwing a softened light over the calm waters of the harbor. 
Across the eastern heavens, its ends seeming to rest on two 
of the surrounding islands, reached a magnificent rainbow, 
every color bright and clear, and its fainter reflection beside 

156 ST. MARY'S M USE. 

it. It formed a frame for the perfect picture lying beyond, 
of ships, an old fort, and distant islands. The sky was covered 
with light clouds through which the forked lightning flashed, as 
if the sky was cracking and the golden lining showing. It was 
a strange, weird, yet unspeakably beautiful scene. 

In a lily which grew on the edge of a cliff were two tiny figures, 
as different in appearance as it was possible for two such minute 
objects to be : the one with smooth, golden ringlets, calm blue eyes, 
white robe and downy white wings, as sweet and pure as a snow- 
drop ; the other with tumbled brown curls, mischievous black 
eyes, a dress which seemed only a softened reflection of the glow- 
ing rainbow colors, and brilliant butterfly wings* She stood on 
the edge of the lily-bell, her tiny bare feet scarce bending the 
white petal. 

" Come Rayonette," she said, "come and see the rainbow." 

But her companion shrank back into the golden heart of the 
lily. "Is it not raining?" she asked. "I'm afraid, see the 
lightning, Coquette." 

But the brave Coquette drew her to her side, and together they 
sat down to watch the lovely scene. 

" I heard some little Earth-children talking this morning," 
said Rayonette, "and they said that at the end of the rainbow, 
there where the lovely colors melt into the sea, there is a Purse 
of Gold. They could not get it, they wished they could, for the 
dear mother had to work so hard, and the gold would be such a 

" Let us go and get it," said Coquette. 

" How can we? we have no boat." 

" But we have our wings," glancing at the glittering appendages. 

"Could we fly so far as that?" asked Rayonette, looking 
timidly at the expanse of dimpled water. 

" Of course we could, come on," and Coquette spread her wings 
as if ready for flight. 

"But see, Coquette, what good would the gold do us? Has 
not our good Queen given us everything we could wish?" 


"We would take it to the little Earth-children," said Coquette, 
"put it on the door-sill, and watch the fun from behind a grass- 
blade in the morning.' 1 

Rayonette hesitated no longer, and. hand in hand the two fairies 
sped towards the brilliant bow. 

As they neared it, it seemed to become more solid, and on 
alighting on the end they found themselves in a kind of porch 
with a door opening on it, above which hung a silken Purse. 

" There it is," said Rayonette, " but how are we to carry such 
a bi<r thing?" • 

" Better begin by getting it down, I suppose," and reaching up 
Coquette gave a tug to the tassel at the bottom. It remained 
firm, but from all around came the sound of bells and soft, sweet 
music, and the door opening a little man stood before them. He 
was dressed in all the colors of the rainbow and his short jacket 
and tall cap were embroidered in rain-drops. 

Rayonette looked despairingly at her companion, but Coquette 
the bold said, not a whit daunted, that they had heard of a Purse 
of Gold to be found at the end of the rainbow, and had come to 
find it. "We did find it," she continued, "but when we tried to 
get it you came." 

"The Purse of Gold," said the little man, who was evidently 
the porter or door-keeper of the establishment, "you must come 
to our Prince about that;" and stepping back he showed them a 
long flight of steps of which they could not see the top. Rayo- 
nette gave another despairing glance; but Coquette, with a "do 
or die" expression, took hold of her hand and following the por- 
ter, began to ascend the staircase. Up, up, up, they went, they 
passed open doors leading into long corridors, or spacious apart- 
ments, looking rather bare but adorned with the most beautiful 
colors. Everywhere tiny figures danced, dressed in many-colored 
garments embroidered in rain-drop pearls. They were all sing- 
ing a song of which only a few words could be distinguished. 
The first two lines sounded like — 

"The sky soon will clear, 
Our palace is here." 


But the rest was hurried over very fast, and only the last word, 
"gone/' could be heard. At last they reached a small platform 
on the opposite side of which the stairs began to descend. Here 
their guide paused and, opening a door, showed them a large 
room or rather hall, at one end of which was a kind of throne. 
On this, surrounded by attendant elves, two small forms were 
seated. One was evidently the Prince; for he wore a crown of 
large rain-drops and his dress was of softer texture and more 
richly embroidered, though of the same brilliant colors as those 
of his attendants. Beside him sat his bride, dressed like a sum- 
mer cloud, with a single pearl in her hair. They both looked 
rather surprised at the party which now entered, but the guide, 
falling on one knee, related the reason of the fairies' visit; 

" The Purse of Gold," said the Prince. " They must have it ; 
but first let these honored guests be shown the palace. I, myself, 
will be their guide." 

"Will you come?" he asked, turning to the lovely Princess. 
But she shook her head and glided away through a side-door. 

Coquette and Rayonette followed the Prince over the palace. 
There was not much to be seen, and after wandering about for 
some time they came back to their starting place and began to 
descend on the other side. 

And now they noticed that the bright colors were growing 
fainter and the gay little elves, who had been dancing, and singing 
their quaint song all over the palace, now crouched in disconso- 
late groups and everything seemed to echo the last note of their 
song, "gone." Looking at the Prince they saw that he too was 
fading; his features were often indistinct and his dress was vague 
and mist-like. 

They descended the stairs and reached an entrance like that 
which they had first seen. The door opened and they saw a boat 
with two small oarsmen and " the Purse of Gold." 

The Prince assisted them to embark, and then said: "Fare- 
well, lovely fairies, you go to life and happiness; but I, to death 
and the great unknown." 


"To death!" cried Coquette, "surely not, come with us, dear 
Prince, you and the'lovely Princess, come to life and happiness!" 

But the Prince shook his head and smiled sadly. " It may 
not be, fair one," he said, "I and my bride must die together. 
Our short reign is over, our hour is at an end." 

And lo! even while they looked the last gleam of sunset faded, 
and with it disappeared the rainbow palace. 


"We went to Asheville last May, and liked it so much that we 
concluded to spend our summer there. My greatest desire was 
to climb Black Mountain. Three weeks before school began I was 
very pleasantly surprised to hear that a party was going to the 
top of the Black, and that I was asked to join it. I was delighted, 
and, as it was but an hour before we should start, I began to pre- 
pare for the trip. 

We left Asheville at four o'clock Thursday afternoon. The 
gentleman whom I went with had a pair of lovely sorrel ponies, 
which he drove in the buggy. One of them was a little frisky; 
as the train passed us, he almost lay down in the harness and cut 
up generally, while the other one stood perfectly still not at all 
frightened. We reached the foot of the mountain about eight 
o'clock in the evening and spent the night at a farm-house, or what 
they called the hotel. Four or five of us girls slept iu one 
room and had a jolly time and, as the others said, made a great 
deal of noise. However, we did not keep the fun up long, for 
we were tired, having driven twenty miles that afternoon. 

The next morning we were up early and had breakfast. 
About ten o'clock we started up the Black in single file. I had 
never been on horseback before, but the pony I rode was very 
gentle, and as we had to go slowly, I got on nicely. In going 


up we passed the Swannanoa river which, there, was only a little 
stream ; but it was not a whit less beautiful, than when as a full 
river it flows into the French Broad. Indeed its waters were 
clearer and ran more rapidly, dashing over the large rocks and 
here and there forming a pretty cascade. Half way up the 
mountain, we stopped to rest and have lunch. It was then twelve 
o'clock. The view was grand. On one side we could see nothing 
but the tall mountains towering above us; and on the other, 
looking down, we could see the tops of other mountains, clothed 
in bright and varied foliage. We reached the summit of the 
Black, which is called Mitchell's Peak, about four in the evening. 
It was very misty and clamp, and we could see nothing but the 
white clouds below us and the tops of the mountains peeping 
through. We then proceeded to the cave, which is about fifty 
yards from Mitchell's grave, on the top of the mountain. Here we 
slept. The cave is a large rock, slightly hollowed' out, under 
which there was plenty of room for us all. There was a photog- 
rapher in the party, who took our picture as we sat together in 
the cave. It was very good indeed. The night was right cold, 
but we had a large fire and plenty of shawls and blankets. 
About five in the morning we got up to see the sunrise. It was 
very much colder than the evening before and the wind blew 
fiercely. I think our pictures should have been taken then, as 
we stood on the top of Mitchell's Peak, bundled up in shawls 
and blankets, and with our faces perfectly blue. Everything 
looked dreary in the grey dawn. But oh, how beautiful the 
sunrise made the mountains and the sky ! First the horizon was 
tinted with a soft crimson ; and then the sun itself rose behind 
the mountain peaks, like a ball of fire, and rested upon their 
summits. The rays soon spread over the clouds, turning the cold 
grey to a bright pink. 

We started down the mountain at seven o'clock. The journey 
was very steep, but we enjoyed it. The path wound back and 
forth down the side of the mountain, so that sometimes the head 
of the line would be half a mile from the end. Then we would 
call to one another, and the words would float up the mountain 


very distinctly. Before \vc reached the foot of the Black, it 
began to rain, and we were all wet through. When we came to 
the hotel we went to bed, and had our clothes dried. Of course 
each one thought she would have pneumonia, but we got up to 
dinner feeling quite well and soon started for home. We reached 
Asheville at eight o'clock. I was very tired, but I have never 
enjoyed anything so much as that mountain trip. 


Tobacco is a plant indigenous to America and was in general 
use among the Indians when the Europeans first came to this 
country. The Red Men sometimes burned the leaves of the plant 
as incense to the "Great Spirit/' and no treaty of peace was con- 
cluded among them until the contracting parties had enjoyed a 
smoke together. To this day the pipe is a sign of peace, not only 
among the Indians but among smokers of all nations. Who 
ever saw two men smoking together when angry with each other"? 

The first European who used tobacco was Hariot, a colonist 
who came to America with Raleigh in 1585. When tobacco was 
carried to England, the lords liked the fragrant weed so well that 
a demand for it was created. To supply this ever-increasing 
demand, the colonists of Jamestown and other settlements devoted 
themselves to the culture of the plant until it became their staple 
product. The use of tobacco has become general in all parts of 
the world. Travelers in Africa sav, that in the interior of that 

*/ 7 

comparatively unknown country men who are not skilful enough 
to make even an ordinary pipe, are found indulging in the luxury 
of a smoke as follows: A hole about the size of a tea-cup is 
scooped out in the ground and lined with clay ; an aperture is 
made through the earth and clay to the bottom of this bowl ; the 
tobacco is then put into the bowl and a coal of fire is applied to 
the leaves ; the devotee of the weed puts his mouth to the aper- 


ture and inhales the fumes. The Turks are very fond of smoking 
and use peculiar pipes so constructed that the smoke is made to 
pass through oil or water and the nicotine is extracted. 

The cultivation of tobacco has assumed vast proportions and 
its consumption is increasing every year. It is a tropical plant 
but, like many tropical plants, reaches far into the temperate 
zones before touching its climatic limit. The soil best suited for 
fine yellow tobacco is fresh gray soil ; the heavy red, or mahogany 
tobacco grows best in a rich loam. Tobacco exhausts the land 
very much, and where it is cultivated the ground must be con- 
tinually fertilized or it will become so poor that nothing can be 
produced. The seed-bed needs careful preparation. First it is 
burned to destroy any old seed, and then thoroughly pulverized. 
The seed may be sown at any time from the first of January to 
the first of March. In May the plants are large enough to trans- 
plant and they are set out in rows three feet apart. The tobacco 
is then cultivated like corn. When the flower bud appears it is 
pinched off that the leaves may grow broad and heavy. Now 
the insects and worms have to be kept off, and the plant has to 
be divested of "suckers" that grow out from the stalk: some 
planters turn flocks of turkeys into the fields and let them pick 
the insects off; the "suckering" is usually done by children. 

When the leaves turn yellow the tobacco is cut close to the 
ground and hung up in barns, where it is subjected to great heat 
until thoroughly dried. The leaves are then stripped from the 
stalk and tied up in small bundles called " hands," in which form 
they are carried to the warehouse and sold to the manufacturer. 
In making "plug" tobacco the leaves are stemmed and smoothed 
out and then moistened with molasses and pressed into cakes. 
Cigars are made by rolling up the stemless leaves. 

Tobacco is by no means a sure crop, for there are many ways 
in which it may be damaged. One of the most frequent causes 
of injury is frost; the least nipping will make the plant worth- 
less. On the other hand, if in the " curing " the heat is a little 
too intense the value of the weed is materially decreased. The 
success of the crop depends in great measure on the season : if very 


dry, the plant is parched and does not grow; if it be a wet season, 
the plant becomes so rank that the tobacco is not of a good quality. 
Tobacco has done its part in opening up the resources of the 
South. It may have been love of adventure and thirst for gold 
that prompted the first Virginia explorers, but the earliest of these 
colonies soon saw the gain to be made from the cultivation of this 
plant. The fortunes made by these attracted others to the New 
World and within twenty years Jamestown was a flourishing 
settlement. In our own State two places witness to the profit of 
tobacco cultivation and manufacture; I refer to the growing- 
towns of Winston and Durham. A few years back Winston 
was only an insignificant village near the old Moravian town of 
Salem. Some enterprising men, taking advantage of its situation 
in a fine tobacco section, established a market for the crop. It 
was brought in from all the country round. Soon factories for 
the manufacture of the weed were established ; and now the town 
contains no less than seventeen factories and seven warehouses, 
the largest and finest of which is Pace's warehouse lately opened. 
If the town continues to grow as rapidly as it has during the 
last few years, it will soon be a flourishing city. Who has not 
heard of Durham tobacco? And where is it not used by smokers? 
The town now known all over the world, has grown up very 
rapidly, and solely through its tobacco market and manufactories. 
Already hopeful prophets say it will yet become the leading city 
of the " Old North State." ' 


In the reign of Edward, or Eadward, the Confessor, Harold, 
the eldest son of that brave and popular nobleman, Earl Godwin, 
whose fair daughter was Queen of England, was shipwrecked on 
the Norman coast. It was customary in those wild days to plun- 
der vessels wrecked on a foreign coast, and to keep the passengers 

164 ST. 3IARY , S MUSE. 

prisoners till a ransom was paid. So on the taking of Harold, 
the Normans expected a high reward. But Duke William of 
Normandy commanded them to release him, and treat him as an 
honorable guest. William's courtesy to him, however, was no 
very creditable fact. Harold was highest in the love and respect 
of his countrymen, and, on the Confessor's death, would doubtless 
succeed to the throne, and William preferred to succeed to that 
throne himself. He had been a great favorite of Edward, who 
had invited him to the English Court. But being a favorite with 
the Confessor was not being so with the people, for Edward was 
disliked by the English, though petted by the monks and Nor- 
mans to whom he gave boundless wealth. Godwin's son, Harold, 
on the contrary, was a gay, handsome Saxon, with native wit and 
bravery, and adored by his countrymen. The Confessor had told 
William that he wished the latter to be his heir ; at least Wil- 
liam said so and he may have spoken truly. So the Norman 
rejoiced in having his formidable adversary in his power. 

One day on returning from the hunt William announced his 
intention concerning the English throne. Harold made no reply. 
On reaching the house a tub was brought forth filled with 
the remains of departed monks they said, though Harold did 
not know it at the time. (If I may be pardoned for saying so, I 
would not be surprised if they were not the bones of ragged 
monks, but were bones of common mortals like ourselves who 
are too wicked to desist from the sinful customs of wearing clean 
clothes and washing our faces.) William asked Harold to swear 
with his hand on the cloth covering the tub, that when the Con- 
fessor died he would endeavor to bring the Norman into favor in 
England ; in other words, Harold was to relinquish all hope of 
the crown. This Harold did, and William promised his daughter, 
Adele, to him in marriage. Then Harold returned to England. 
The Confessor soon died, and Harold with knightly ease broke 
his oath, and accepted the English crown. When William heard 
of this, he sent embassadors to Harold to give him a gentle hint 
that this was not the right way to keep his vow, and that Wil- 


Ham would like to have the crown. Bat as Harold did not seem 
to care at all about his oath or the lady that was to be his wife, 
Duke William ventured on more forcible measures. 

Undaunted by innumerable disasters, he again and again set 
sail for England. Harold had a rebel brother who was vassal 
to Harold Hadrada, the Norwegian king. They allied with 
Duke William, and landed on English grounds to assist him. 
But Harold met them, and defeated them with dreadful slaughter. 
Harold's brother and the king were killed. But even as the 
victorious army were banqueting at York, messengers came to 
report the fact that William had landed in England. Harold 
met him on November 30th, 1066. The result of that fatal bat- 
tle is well known. The Xormans, though less in number than 
the English, were better soldiers, and had more effective weapons. 
Both armies fought bravely, Harold exhibiting that courage 
which was his best quality; William showing miraculous strength 
and courage. But a Norman arrow struck Harold in the eye, 
blinding him ; and when another arrow killed him, his soldiers 
forsook his banner and fled. With Harold fell the Saxons. 

The Norman Conqueror was crowned in Westminster Abbey 
on Christmas day. He there swore to govern the English as 
well as her own kings could. How he kept his oath is no more 
remarkable than the way in which Harold kept his. Hume, who 
seems disposed to favor the Conqueror, says in his abridged 
edition: "He took care to place all real power in the hands of 
his Normans." But he does not say as a sequel to this that he 
took care to place no power in the Saxon hands. England had 
begun to look upon the Conqueror as a native king, until he 
went over to Normandy to see his subjects there, leaving Bishop 
Odo in possession of the kingdom. The oppressions of this 
bishop seemed to do away with the impression which the Norman 
had made, and on returning, he found strong hatred so prevalent 
that he was forced to act with great severity ; and then the fear- 
ful cruelties of his reign commenced. But Dickens says that 
when he left for Normandy, the country was as full of hate 
against him " As if every leaf on every English tree was a curse 


against him and his race." Macaulay, who admires the Norman 
race, contrasting their chivalry and delicacy, their romance, their 
literature with the Saxon gluttony and drunkenness, remarks: 
"The whole population of England was given up to the tyranny 
of the Norman race. A cruel penal code, cruelly enforced, 
guarded the privileges and even the sports of the alien tyrants. 
Yet the subject race, though beaten clown, made its sting felt." 
Made its sting felt ! Aye, with a vengeance ! as one of the Nor- 
man soldiers might have said. Though from the River Tyne to 
the River Humber "no cultivated field or inhabited village was 
left" and all of England was alike despoiled, the Saxons would 
not be subdued. They rose and died by thousands; conspiracies 
were discovered each day. "The Conqueror!" how empty is 
that title ! Had William ever conquered one true, warm heart? 
Had one town, one village, aye, had the inhabitants of a single 
farm or homestead willingly, gladly submitted to him? No! 
His shocking cruelties awakened the most intense hatred of him 
in every English heart. Even his own nobles, his Norman 
courtiers, cared nothing for him, though they fawned on and 
flattered him in the hopes of gain. And gain they had, though 
they deserved it not. The property of the Saxon lords helped 
to make the commonest Norman Avealthy. The new owners , of 
the soil had their names enrolled in a book called Doomsday 

William's cruelty in obtaining this land is too horrible to be 
recorded. But the greatest cruelty of the Conqueror's reign is 
yet to be told. He was possessed with a great fondness for hunt- 
ing, or as a Saxon chronicler says of one of his native kings, " he 
loved the tall game as if he had been their father." In the dis- 
trict of Hampshire the huts of the peasants were ruthlessly pulled 
down and destroyed. The miserable inhabitants were cast on 
the world, men, women and children, without a shelter for their 
heads. This done William made the strictest laws for the preser- 
vation of the game. The killing of even a hare was punished 
by the loss of the eyes. Soon after the establishment of this 
Forest he quarreled with France. He had grown corpulent, and 


the French King jested about him. To punish this offence against 
his dignity, he set fire the country and slew the peaceful inhabi- 
tants without mercy, as he had done in England. By a just 
retribution for this crime, in a town he had set on fire, while 
galloping through it, his horse stepped on a burning cinder and 
fell. William fell against the pommel of the saddle, thus receiv- 
ing a wound. Perhaps this wound was fatal, perhaps, by unskil- 
ful treatment it was made so; which is true is not known, but he 
died from the consequences of the wound in the year 1087. 

" There's the end of him ! " savs the student with a sigh of 
relief. But the student is mistaken. The most remarkable 
part of the Conqueror's reign was after his death. His many 
evil deeds were doubly repaid him. In his life-time he had 
plundered and robbed without mercy; and as soon as he had 
died his body was stripped and plundered. When his body was 
taken to the church for funeral services, fire, of which he had 
made such a bad use in life, followed him in death. A great fire 
broke out, and the people hurried away, leaving the royal corpse 
alone. The Saxons, whom he had despoiled, insulted him in 
death ; for when about to let him down into the grave, a man in 
the assembly arose and cried: "This land is mine! Upon it 
stood my father's house ! The King despoiled me of both house 
and land to build this church ! In the high name of God, I 
here forbid this body to be covered with earth ; that is my right !" 
Knowing his right, the bishops paid him for the grave. Was 
ever a king's corpse so humiliated"? But the wicked deed of 
making the Xew Forest, was that unpunished? Xo indeed! 
Double vengeance was executed upon him for that deed. His son 
Richard was killed in a hunt there, and his nephew also. And 
William the lied, his son who succeeded to the English Crown, 
was also killed there. An arrow shot by an unseen hand, pierced 
his breast and he fell, dead. 

So ends the reign of the illustrious Norman Conqueror, whom 
though we hate him for his fearful, blood-thirsty- deeds, we can- 
not but admire. 


Smedes. — On Thursday in Holy Week, March 22d, 
1883, at the home of her daughter, Mrs. Mary A. Sher- 
wood, in Beloit, Wisconsin, Mrs. Eliza Siebor Smedes, 
widow of Abraham Kiersted Smedes, in the niuetv-first 
year of her age. 

Mother of three surviving children and of nine others 
whom she outlived ; with grandchildren who were them- 
selves grandparents, and with descendants more in num- 
ber than the many years of her pilgrimage; from a child 
a faithful handmaid of the Lord, to be long remembered 
for loving service in St. Mark's Church, New York, in 
Christ Church, Lexington, Kentucky, in Grace Church, 
Chicago, and in St. Paul's, Beloit; friend and counsellor, 
as well as dutiful spiritual child, of many bishops and 
pastors; mother and grandmother of four clergymen and 
of many Church -wardens and vestrymen ; the subject of 
this notice was truly, in a figurative as well as in a literal 
sense, a " mother in Israel." " O Lord Jesus Christ, how 
I love Thee," her last intelligible utterance before her 
peaceful departure, reveals the secret spring of her long 
life's many joys and blessings as well as of her patient 
endurance under the full weight of the "labor and sor- 
row" which Holy Writ apportions to those who come to 
four-score years. 

Died, on Monday, March 5th, Mariana K. Alston, 
of Henderson ville, N. C, aged 16 years. 

Died, on Wednesday, March 21st, Lucy E. For- 
tescue, of Hyde county, N. C, aged 12 years. 


Early en February, the days were bright and beautiful; 
the boisterous winds were subdued to a gentle breath ; the heavens, 
no longer dark and threatening, were all of that summer blue 
over which the light clouds love to float. Encouraged by the 
warm air, a little white hyacinth raised its head from the earth 
and smiled upon the surrounding world. We welcomed it gladly, 
both for its own sweet sake and for the tidings it brought of the 
gentle Spring. But the next and each succeeding morning, 
traces of frost were seen ; the wind continued to whistle around 
the house, and each day became more chill than the last. We 
began to look doubtful lv at the solitary messenger; but, conscious 
of its innocence, the sweet emblem of truth and purity braved 
alike wintry blasts and distrustful glances, till Spring, indignant 
at the reception of her favorite, sent forward a whole band of 
her attendants to support her. The flowers which had been kept 
iu-doors through the winter began to peep from their places in the 
windows at the flowers in the garden below; at the jonquills, 
claiming a whole bed for themselves; at the hyacinths, and at 
the Holland-tulips in their rich robes of white, pink, scarlet, and 
purple. The little ones, unable to climb up to the window, 
stretched their tender stems to receive the kiss of the sunbeams. 
With the opening buds came the sweet musicians that Spring 
loves. They fluttered from place to place picking up twigs for 
their house-building. Everything invited to the woods, where, 
though the trees were bare of foliage, and the ground was still 
covered with dead leaves, tiny woodland treasures, daisies, violets, 
and fragrant heart-leaves nestled under their covering. Once in 
the woods, ringing with the joyous songs of the birds, we felt 
that Winter was over, while the wind gaily tugged at hat and 
wrap which we willingly threw aside. 

One morning we awoke to find all without bright and beautiful 
but within a deep, dark shadow. It was long ere we fully 

170 ST. 3fARY'S MUSE. 

realized the solemn, mighty presence that checked the gay laugh 
and saddened the fluttering hearts lately bounding in sympathy 
with nature's returning beauties. 

"Youth and the opening rose 
May look like things too glorious for decay," 

but "thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death." Death 
came, a strange, unwelcome visitor, disturbing our peaceful house- 
hold and taking away one of its members. She was not quite 
sixteen, one of Spring's own blossoms, for she saw the world the 
first and the last time in its Spring-tide beauty. Our attention 
was attracted to her, upon her first arrival, six short weeks before, 
by her pale face and mourning-dress. She had had more than 
one severe illness in her short life, and now struggled faithfully 
to fulfil her duties in spite of continual headache and lassitude. 

About the first of March, she was taken ill and, at once, 
removed to our pretty little infirmary that she might be perfectly 
quiet and the sooner recover. The walls were bare, for it had 
never before been used ; but we hung upon them several paintings 
from the art-room, and the warm, bright sunshine coming in at 
the window seemed to promise speedy recovery. But after one 
short week, despite the loving, watchful care bestowed upon her, 
she was taken from us in the early morning. There was but little 
we could do to show our sympathy with the afflicted parents ; we 
gave a few white flowers and the tribute of our tears. We saw 
nothing but terror in Death and the Grave until the beautiful 
sermon on the following Sunday, showed them to us as the gate- 
way of Paradise. Our sister is not dead; a loving Hand has 
taken the young blossom to a far more beauteous land, there to 
bloom in a never-ending Spring. 

During the shadows of Holy Week, Death came to us again 
and bore away one who had been with us only two short weeks. 
She was a fragile, patient, little sufferer, and had been so all the 
twelve years of her life. On the Wednesday night of Holy 
Week, her pain ceased, she fell asleep and was at rest. Her 
friends, living far from telegraphic communication, could not 


reach her in time fur a last word, but her grandfather who came 
on Easter eve, joined with ns in the blessed Communion of Saints 
and the Commemoration of that glorious Resurrection whereby 
Death is swallowed up in Victory. 

The Chapel looked very beautiful and Easter-like. The season 
was too young for us to have our accustomed wealth of roses, but 
the font was tilled with rare hyacinths, the altar was covered 
with flowers from the green-house, and on the snowy reredos was 
a golden cross under which "Alleluia" was written, in graceful 
ferns. Outside, the heavens were overcast, and snow and sleet 
tilled the air; but within were glorious anthems and rejoicing 
hymns; and with chastened gladness we met the Risen Lord. 


February 21, 188.". 

A journey to California in the early days of its settlement, said 
our Bishop one happy evening when he was visiting us, was quite 
a different undertaking from what it is now. I made my last 
trip to California from Chicago to San Francisco in five days. 
On the train I met a lady who said that in 1849 and 1850 it 
took her four months and a half to go there from St. Louis. 

San Francisco has become one of the most enterprising cities 
in this country and certainly one of the most interesting. The 
public edifices are of a style and magnificence which would do 
honor to a much older place. The hotels, among which may be 
mentioned the "Grand," the "Palace," and the "Baldwin," are 
built and conducted on a scale far grander than any I have ever 
seen in Europe. They are undoubtedly the finest hotels in the 

Now, the climate of California is exceedingly peculiar, because 
no two places have the same. Many persons have asked me, 


" How do you like the climate of California?" Well, this ques- 
tion is rather difficult to answer. If you were to ask me how I 
like the climate of San Francisco, or Los Angeles, or of Santa 
Barbara, or San Diego, I could tell you of each one separately. 
One remarkable fact about San Francisco is that it never 
freezes there, nor is there ever any frost. The year is divided 
into the rainy and dry seasons, corresponding to our winter and 
summer. By the rainy season, I do not mean that it rains all 
the time then; but it is liable to rain at any time. No matter 
how bright the sun, no matter how clear the sky, one can never 
be certain of the weather; and if you forget or purposely leave 
behind your umbrella, ten to one you will be caught in a shower. 
It has also a great way of raining at night, something as at Rome. 
When one goes to bed there is not a cloud to be seen. In the 
dead of night you will be awakened by a tremendous noise of 
rain above your head; and the next morning everything is as 
bright and clear as if it had not rained at all. Summer is the 
dry season and a very disagreeable season it is, too. But for 
artificial irrigation, the flower-gardens would become desolate, 
and the green tints of spring be changed for a depressing deadness 
of hue: yet so successful is this irrigation that the flowers bud 
and bloom in spite of the drought. The south-west trades set in, 
reminding one of the winds of Nice, without, however, its sunny 
skies; for these Pacific south-westers bring from the ocean, some 
six miles distant, a dismal cloud that obscures the heavens from 
ten o'clock in the morning until night. This fog is not so bad 
as that of London; it more nearly resembles the Scotch mist. 
Thus it is often cold and dark and windy even in midsummer; 
and the ladies wear their furs all the year round. At San Fran- 
cisco you shiver with your overcoat on ; but if you take a steamer 
and sail up the bay, you will soon leave behind the cold wind 
and fog. If you keep on up to Vallejo at the head of the bay, 
and there take a train, half an hour's ride will bring you to JNIapa 
Valley, with as bright and cloudless a sky as you could wish, 
and a thermometer ranging from 90° to 96° in the shade. The 
climate of this valley is delightful. Occasionally it has a little 


frost; but I planted some orange trees when I lived there, and 
last fall I found them growing finely. To return to San Fran- 
cisco. Those same winds that escort the mist bring also clouds of 
sand, which drift into banks sometimes thirty or even forty feet 

Another characteristic of San Francisco is its mixture of 
people. You cannot ride half a dozen blocks in a street car 
without hearing four or five languages. There will be English, 
French, German, Spanish, Italian, Chinese, Japanese. The 
Chinese are very numerous. They still wear their pigtails, their 
odd shoes and coats; and they even lengthen their queues with 
false hair to make them reach the ground. In every particular, 
they adhere to the customs of their country, and paying a visit 
to "Chinatown" is like going to China. You see there the 
pagodas and temples, or " josh-houses," just as you would in the 
Celestial Empire. The Chinese are, perhaps, the most irreverent 
of all people. They enter a josh-house : they walk about with 
their hats on, talk, laugh, and act just as they would anywhere 
else. When they want to pray, they go to an altar, pull out a 
slip of paper on which a prayer is printed, throw the paper with 
some incense on a fire; and that is about all the praying they do. 
The prayer is supposed to ascend in the smoke of the incense. 

The Japanese are disposed to conform to American customs, 
going so far as to purchase their American clothes in Japan, that 
when they arrive they may be like others around them. I have 
often seen companies of young men just landed coming up to 
the hotel, in all respects, save features, like Americans. When 
they came to the table, they looked round to see how other people 
ate. They are very quick at imitating, and in about twenty-four 
hours they learned to eat just as we do. 

San Francisco is built on hills, and near the city is a rocky 
ridge or backbone, the result of volcanic action. The town used 
to be subject to frequent and violent earthquakes, but now they are 
rare and seldom do any harm. During the three years that I 
lived there only three earthquakes took place. One night I was 
awakened by the swinging and banging of a w r ardrobe door. My 

174 ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 

bed began to shake a little, and I heard the women rushing 
wildly through the passages. But I did not disturb myself. " It 
is only an earthquake," I thought. 

Magnificent as are some of the houses of San Francisco, you 
will be surprised to find them nearly all built of wood, a frame 
dry-goods-box of a house being considered more secure against 
earthquakes than one built of brick or stone. However, the people 
are ceasing to fear earthquakes as formerly, and some have ven- 
tured to indulge in more solid material than wood. 

Every visitor wishes to enjoy the splendid drive of sixteen 
miles along the sea-shore. There is on the coast near the city a 
great rock about a hundred yards long where the seals come up 
out of the water to sun themselves. No one is allowed to hurt 
them, so sometimes they grow quite tame ; and there they sit and 
keep up a concert, or rather a din, of terrific bellowing. The 
Bay of San Francisco must not be confounded with the famous 
Golden Gate. The former is a large inland sheet of water sixty 
miles long and five wide at its greatest breadth; while the latter 
is a strait about six miles long and one wide, connecting the bay 
with the ocean. 

Leaving San Francisco and going south, we come to Los 
Angeles, a quaint old town settled long ago by the Spaniards, 
some of whose fortifications still remain. The climate of Los 
Angeles is a delightful spring, while vineyards and orange 
groves flourish on its fertile soil. Santa Barbara is another bright 
gem set in an emerald landscape. San Diego, though a small, 
unimportant place in a dreary waste of sand, is a great health 
resort for people with weak lungs. The climate is so dry and 
the soil so poor that no grain, fruit or vegetable can be raised 
there; all have to be brought from San Francisco. Santa Cruz 
is a sea-bathing resort, the Cape May of California. Monterey 
is another pleasant sea-coast town. 

Going up the bay of San Francisco, we land at Vallejo and 
after a ride of forty-five miles, come to Napa Valley, one of the 
prettiest spots in the State. It is in the shape of a V, widening 
towards the bay, and at the end it is overlooked by Mt. St. 


Helena, 4,500 feet above the level of the sea. Napa Valley is 
admirably adapted to the cultivation of wheat and the vine; the 
latter is becoming one of the main agricultural products of the 
country. It is a peculiarity of California that foreign grapes 
improve there. Vines are always green and flourishing no 
matter how dry everything else is. The dryness of the climate 
promotes rather than hinders their cultivation because it prevents 
decay and mildew. AVe always associate grape vines with arbors 
or trellises, but in California the vines are never trained, or the 
extent of training amounts to being tied to a stick. They lie 
about like raspberry bushes, and the grapes may remain on the 
ground without suffering the slightest injury. One of these vines 
bears from fifteen to twenty-five pounds of grapes. It takes fifteen 
pounds of grapes to make one gallon of wine. An acre has 
been known to yield as much as six hundred gallons, and two 
hundred are considered a very moderate produce; which would 
make a vineyard of a thousand acres yield at least two huudred 
thousand gallons. Once I went to a grape fair. There was 
one large room filled with tables; on these grapes were piled in 
huge heaps, and one was at liberty to eat as many as he chose. 
In this exhibition there were two hundred varieties. 

A drive of thirty or forty miles from Napa Valley brings you 
to a place interesting for its volcanic character. You turn up a 
deep ravine, in which a hotel has been built for the convenience 
of travelers, and see before you a large natural rock basin, 
holding, I suppose, one hundred gallons of water, which water 
is always boiling. The ground rumbles and roars and heaves 
and puffs as if some steam engine were at work underfoot. 
Geysers are scattered here and there; sulphur, steam, and smoke 
rise out of the earth, and the whole is strange and fearful. 

I did not visit the big trees of California on my last trip, but I 
suppose I might as well describe them to you. There are two prin- 
cipal groves, the Mariposa and the Calaveras. The trees are of all 
sizes, and their ages vary from one to two thousand years. On the 
trunk of one a pavilion has been built large enough for a house 
of worship. The four corners were filled out and then the room 


was about twenty-four feet square. When I attended the service, 
there were two rows of chairs running around the wall, a table 
for the minister, and a considerable space unoccupied, so that 
with fifty persons present, there was ample room for fifty more. 
By the side of the trunk lies the prostrate tree, up which have 
been placed steps leading to a balcony in the branches. It is no 
uncommon thing to ride through the trunk of a fallen tree, or 
even of a live one standing firm and vigorous on its broad though 
hollow base. The foliage of these giants of the forest is very 
scanty, resembling that of our arborvitae. Without doubt, the 
enormous size of these trees is, in some measure, due to the 
richness of the soil. They grow on elevated swamps or plateaus 
with a surface belt of the blackest loam from five to ten feet 
thick. But the "big tree," though indigenous to California, can 
be made to thrive in foreign lands also. A gentleman in England 
showed me a young one in his garden. It appeared to be doing 
very nicely, and was then twenty feet high. 

Not far from the Mariposa grove is the Yosemite Valley, which 
seems to have been made by some freak of nature, as if a mighty 
earthquake had riven asunder a huge mountain range, placing its 
dissevered sides half a mile apart. And indeed the sides look as 
if they would fit into each other. The sun does not rise on the 
valley until ten o'clock, but with what splendor does he then 
light up those snow-clad heights of granite! One morning at 
sunrise, at which late hour I was still in bed, a gentleman 
knocked at my door calling me to get up or I should miss a 
lovely sight. Accordingly I hurried as fast as I could, and on 
going out, saw, through a rain in the valley, the tardy sunbeams 
just gilding the summits of the rocks above. The accumulated 
snows of winter, melting in the spring, for a short time enliven 
the wild scenery by a series of cascades and waterfalls, whose beauty 
is unsurpassed. I was there in the early summer, about the 10th 
of June I think, when a few scattered patches of snow still 
remained. The valley is so precipitous that there was no carriage 
road. All riding for a distance of twenty-five miles had to be 
done on horseback. The scenery reminds one of the wadies of 


Arabia near Mt. Sinai. There you seem hemmed in on all .sides, 
to the right, to the left, before, and behind. No egress from 
this mountain fastness is to be seen. Yet you ride on until at 
last you come to a small opening just large enough to squeeze 
through, when you seem to be enclosed within equally impassible 
barriers. But the end of that wady will soon come, and you 
will enter still another. And so on and on you go. The 
Yosemite Valley, though not a succession of distinctly marked 
wadies, is extremely bold and rough. 

California is no longer a wild, thinly populated country. Gold 
mining, once thought the only profitable business, is dying out, 
and men have turned their attention to the more improving work 
of agriculture, to which the State is w r onderfully adapted. The 
cultivation of fruits is becoming an important industry. I never 
ate more delicious strawberries than those of California; and 
they are in season there six months of the year. The peaches, I 
think, are not so good as ours; the apples are very fine; the 
grapes are the best in the world. Some people have asked me if 
they had any grape like our scuppernong. Why, they would 
not eat such a grape in California, with its tough skin and pulp ! 
California grapes have thin skins and no pulps, and a luscious- 
ness of flavor exceeding that of the muscat of Alexandria. 
Raisin-making has recently been begun, and the raisins are as 
good as, if not better than, those of Malaga. The figs of Cali- 
fornia are very fine, siu'passing in excellence those of Egypt and 
Syria. I had a tree at Napa Valley forty feet high, bearing 
bushels of sugary purple figs. Once when I was visiting a 
friend some thirty miles south of Napa Valley, he said that he 
would show me the biggest fig tree I had ever seen in my life. 
He was astonished when I told him that his tree, though 
unusually big, was not so big as mine. However, these two trees 
are extraordinary even for California. 

The mineral resources opened up the wild Territory, but it is 
the fertility of its soil which will place the State among the 
richest in the world. 

178 ST. MARY'S M USE. 


The spot where St. Augustine's Normal School for 
colored people has stood for fifteen years is now marked by a heap 
of ruins. The charred posts and bricks indicate that fire, the 
most fearful of devastators, has been at work. On the morning 
of the 6th of March, the chimney of the principal building was 
discovered to be on fire; this, however, caused little alarm, and, 
being carefully watched by some of the students, the chimney 
was allowed to burn out. But it happened that through an im- 
perfect flue, some flying sparks had gotten inside the wall ; and, 
smothered there during the morning, they broke Out into a flame 
at about 4 p. M. Everything that could be done to keep the 
fire from spreading was done ; but the wood readily gave way to 
the flames, which, fanned by a lively south breeze, soon envel- 
oped all the buildings. By the active efforts of the men, the 
furniture and property of the scholars were saved ; but the four 
buildings, comprising two dormitories, the Chapel and school- 
room, and the dining-room and kitchen, were burned to the 
ground. The fire lasted only two hours, as the houses were built 
of inflammable pine-wood, and the weather was very dry. Until 
other accommodations can be had, the students are established in 
a large house in the adjoining lot which has lately been added to 
the number of the school* buildings. This house was the home 
of the founder of St. x4aigustine's. 

Coming South for the purpose of establishing an Institution 
for the education and evangelization of the colored race, the Rev. 
Dr. J. B. Smith made Raleigh his stopping-place, and founded, 
in 1867, under the auspices of the Freedmen's Institute, the 
Normal School. By his untiring energy and perseverance, Dr. 
Smith obtained a considerable fund for the school, chiefly from 
an endowment by the late Rev. Mr. Avery, a philanthropist of 
Pittsburg, Penn., who, dying, left the bulk of his large estate for 
the improvement and maintenance of St. Augustine's. In 1872, 
on the death of Dr. Smith, the Institution came into the hands 

ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 179 

of its present Principal. Not only has the aim of its founder 
been carried out, but his plan has been enlarged; for, besides 
sending out those prepared for teachers of their race, this school 
has educated ten pupils for ministers in the Protestant Episcopal 
Church. One of the most prominent of these was the late Mr. 
G. A. C. Cooper. After having satisfactorily finished the course 
of a Candidate for Holy Orders and having been ordained, he 
spent the last four years of his life as a useful teacher at St. 
Augustine's. Two of her scholars have work in the missionary 
field of Tennessee; four are laboring in this State, and one in 
Brooklyn, N. Y.; while another has returned to teach his coun- 
trymen in Hayti. 

The good work of the school will not be discontinued on ac- 
count of the fire, for measures are being taken for immediate 
rebuilding; and this time the houses will be of more substantial 
and durable material. Moreover, the question of building a set 
of rooms for a Theological Seminary is being discussed ; so that 
when handsome new buildings have been erected, the fire may 
prove to have been but a blessing in disguise. 


On Thursday, the 29th of March, Dr. Benson, the new 
Archbishop of Canterbury was enthroned in Canterbury Cathe- 
dral. For a month before the enthronement, applications for 
admission poured in from all parts of England. As the accom- 
modations of the Cathedral are limited, after the wisest fore- 
thought and best arrangements only two thousand people were 
seated, and standing room was found for about five hundred more 
in the aisles. The procession of five hundred clergy and twenty 
Bishops entered the Cathedral by the West door. The Bishops 
in the procession were the Right Reverend Drs. Lightfoot of 
Durham, Browne of Winchester, Duruford of Chichester, Wood- 
ford of Ely, Atlay of Hereford, Maclagan of Lichfield, Words- 
worth of Lincoln, Thorald of Rochester, Bloomfield of Col- 
chester, Parry of Dover, Jackson of Antigua, and Thornton of 
Ballaarat, Australia. Also the following Demissionary Bishops: 
Dr. Mitchinson, late Bishop of Barbadoes, at present assisting in 


the diocese of Peterborough, who was retired in 1881; Dr. 
Cheetham from Sierra Leone (1881); Dr. Jenner from Dunedin, 
New Zealand (1871); Dr. Oxenden from Montreal (1878); Dr. 
Perry from Melbourne (1875); Dr. Tuffnell from Brisbane, Aus- 
tralia (1875); and Dr. Titcomb from Rangoon, India (1881). 

The Right Honorable and most Reverend Edward White Ben- 
son, 93d Archbishop of Canterbury and Primate of all Eng- 
land, is now fifty -two years of age. For seven years he has occu- 
pied the newly revived see of Truro in Cornwall; and the people 
of his diocese propose to testify their love and reverence for him 
and their appreciation of his active labor and love for them by 
adding a new transept to the Cathedral of Truro, to cost not less 
than £15,000. Dr. Benson is a man of great energy and humble 
piety ; only a stern sense of duty, and the advice of those in whom 
he placed most confidence, decided him to accept the great charge 
of the Primacy. 

The office of Archbishop was instituted in the earliest ages of 
Christianity ; for, soon after the time of the Apostles, the bishops 
of large cities were held to have higher authority than provincial 
prelates. In England all bishops were entirely dependent on the 
crown; Canterbury became the seat of religious government 
because there the kings held their court; and only by securing 
the cooperation of the King could the Bishops hope to possess 
influence. But tyranny followed on this dependence, and those 
who at first bowed before the throne afterwards fought against its 
despotism with all their might; so that in the reigns of Henry 
II., John, and Henry III., Archbishop and King were engaged 
in one long contest. The authority assumed by the Bishop of 
Rome accustomed men to the union of temporal power with 
spiritual. The Church of England carried on the same govern- 
ment. Augustine, its first Archbishop, (597 A. D.) was sent 
from Rome to England to Christianize the Saxon people, and he 
devoted himself chiefly to mission work. But the comprehensive 
letters received by him from Gregory I. (see Bede's Eccles. Hist.) 
treat of the power of an Archbishop, his authority over the 
bishops of the Church, the mode of government which he ought 


to institute in order to secure good organization ; and finally the 
headship which the Archbishop of Canterbury should hold even 
over the Archbishop of York. It was reserved, however, for 
Theodore ((368 A. D.) to carry into execution the plan of the wise 
pontiff. During his holding of the Archi-episeopal see, he trans- 
formed travelling missionaries into parish priests, and secured 
them an annual income by tithes demanded from the laity; he 
established mission stations, and added many new sees to those 
already in existence; all were grouped around Canterbury as a 
centre. It is only by contrasting the loose, unsettled state of the 
Church previous to this time with the quiet and order that suc- 
ceeded, that we can estimate the value of his work. But Theo- 
dore did more than this. He severed the last tie that bound the 
English to the lawless, tradition-ruled Irish Church, and brought 
the former to the acme of its prosperity under the Anglo-Saxon 

In the centuries which followed, the civil government was in 
utter confusion, and as the Church depended for its existence 
upon the State, it was inevitably drawn into the conflict. During 
the three hundred years from the death of Theodore to the 
accession of William the Conqueror, the single name of note in 
the Church was that of Archbishop Dunstan. His aims were 
great, but too far in advance of his time to secure either civil or 
religious co-operation. But with the Conquest, came new life 
into the Church. The Anglo-Saxon clergy had become very 
corrupt and most of the higher offices were occupied by men 
chosen more for their wealth and political influence than for any 
personal merit. But the Norman Conqueror, though stern and 
cruel, was really desirous of the good of both Church and State; 
and the useless Saxons were soon dispossessed of their livings, 
and their places filled by Normans, noted not for their riches, but 
for their true piety and learning. The new Archbishop of Can- 
terbury, Lanfranc, united with. William to bring about a closer 
relation between Church and State, and his measures brought 
quiet to the Church for a time, though in the end they caused 
bitter strife and bloodshed. It was proper and good that a close 


union of the civil and spiritual authority should exist under a 
man as wise and as much interested in the welfare of the Church 
as was William; but the same power, which in his hands was 
turned to good, became, under his successor, a means of the 
greediest extortion. Lanfranc and William had made all the 
sees and livings dependent on the King, and during their vacancy 
the proceeds reverted to the crown. William Rufus, in order to 
satisfy his greed, kept see after see vacant. Anselm, whom the 
King appointed after long delay to the see of Canterbury, was 
no sooner in possession of the Archbishopric, than he began 
strenuously to oppose the growing tyranny of the King. The 
example set by the pious and holy Anselm was followed by 
many of his successors, and for nearly seventy years the struggle 
against the Angevin Kings continued. Sometimes the prelates 
were victorious, as when, at the end of Stephen's reign, Theobald 
quelled the disturbance into which England had been plunged ; 
but, often the Church was trodden under foot by the unscrupu- 
lous violence of the crown. Thomas a Becket strove in vain all 
his life against the power of the government over the Church. 
Henry II. assumed, as Becket himself said, an "authority in the 
affairs of the Church to which I will never submit." His 
officers meddled in the Church courts and in all ecclesiastical pro- 
ceedings, and he wished all bishops to be under his control. 
Becket urged deadly war against this tyranny ; but the power of 
the King was stronger than that of the Archbishop, and Thomas 
a Becket died a martyr to his cause. Stephen Langton by his 
vast energy procured a slight respite from the tyranny of John 
and Henry III. ; but, at his death, the power of Rome, against 
which also he had struggled, rose to gigantic proportions, and 
cast a dark shadow over every faint hope of religious liberty. 
Italian and French clergy filled all the vacant livings; the envoys 
of the Pope taxed England unmercifully in order to support the 
papal wars, and the authority of the Archbishops of Canterbury 
was lost in the immense power of the Romish Cardinals. But the 
voice of the Primate again made itself heard under Henry VIII. 
and Edward VI. Archbishop Cranmer gave to the Church 


of England her liturgy and formulated her Articles, and sealed 
a life of devotion to the Church by a martyr's death. Mary and 
her bishops undid everything which had been done in the pre- 
ceding reign. It remained for Archbishop Parker to bring back 
an orderly discipline and ritual, and to leave the Church in 
greater prosperity than it had enjoyed since its infancy. The 
extreme measures and opposed views of Abbot and Laud, 
although for a time they threatened the peace of the Church, 
really taught her the mean between Dissent and Romanism. 
Laud was the last Primate who wielded great political power. 
Since his days archbishops have been content with ecclesiastical 
authority. Hooker tells us that the modern Archbishop has it in 
his power to call general councils, to exercise oversight over all 
the bishops, to examine all cases against any bishop. Besides 
these duties he controls the immense missionary business of the 
Church and in the matter of politics may use the influence 
derived from his seat in the Privy Council. "We hear no more 
of archbishops like Dunstan renowned in statesmanship, but no 
Primate has ever done more for the good of the Church than the 
late Dr. Tait. He exerted all his energy to widen the views of 
Churchmen, to keep the Church national, and to prevent its dis- 
establishment. He joined himself to no party (save in the matter 
of the Church Association), but his private views where principle 
was not concerned, did not weigh for an instant against the 
general welfare of the Church. His charities were immense, 
and the English hope soon to perpetuate them by linking to his 
name a memorial of unparalleled magnificence and true value. 
Dr. Tait made one great mistake in allowing the bill to be passed 
which submitted extreme ritualists to the bar of temporal courts, 
but his latest effort was to counteract this evil. In every other 
action he used singular wisdom and forethought; he was a true 
son of the Church, and by his death she has lost one of her 
ablest rulers. 

Dr. Benson has hitherto been successful in all he has under- 
taken. The school of which he was the founder and head has 
been singularly prosperous, and he raised the new Bishopric of 

184 ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 

Truro to prominence among English sees. We pray that in 
his new office of Archbishop these presages of a successful future 
may be fully realized. 

Since the panic of the French Cabinet and the resignation 
of its members immediately after the death of Gambetta, the 
world has been anxiously awaiting the election of the new Min- 
istry. It has at last entered upon its duties, and though well re- 
ceived by France, the world is decidedly disappointed. In the 
first place the members are for the most part very ill-chosen. 
The Minister of Foreign Affairs, M. Challemel-Lacour, is a man 
of decided opinions, of which the most decided is that no one 
can differ from him. His power of adaptability is small, his 
manner overbearing, and his entire character lacking in diplo- 
macy. Thibaudin, Minister of War, is next in importance; 
a man charged with having broken his parole after the siege of 
Metz and having served again under an assumed name. The 
Premier, Jules Ferry, has assumed a neutral position in the Min- 
istry, but has announced his intention of "having his own way 
with his Cabinet. " The first action of the body has been on the 
question of the expulsion of the Princes. The Chamber passed 
the bill by a large majority, but during its discussion in the 
Senate it has received many changes. The agitation of the Expul- 
sion has been from the first a most undesirable affair. The 
Comte de Chambord, the Comte de Paris, and Prince Bonaparte 
have lived very quietly under the Republic and do not desire to 
overthrow the present French government. The Comte de 
Chambord has no heir and can have no great ambition to leave 
a crown to the Orleans family. The Comte de Paris shows him- 
self undesirous of meddling in any contest, by acknowledging the 
Comte de Chambord head of the Bourbon and Orleans lines. 
Prince Bonaparte is not an object of dread to the nation ; they 
fear no extreme measures from him. But his Manifesto, how- 
ever useless it seemed at the time, has done much for the Princes. 
It gave rise to the Expulsion Bill. This has aroused the keen 
sympathy of the French for those men whom the Chamber wishes 


to send into exile without the slightest pretext. The Republic is 
at present feeble and inefficient and its Ministry and President are 
paralyzed by the loss of the ruling Mind of the government. A 
large part of the French nation have always leaned to the tradi- 
tional authority of the King ; the glory of Henry IV. and Louis 
XI V. and the brilliancy of the Empire still charm their fancy. 
Manv would cry " Vive le roi Henri V.," with real joy. The 
French are not constituted for a Republic. A President's house- 
hold cannot sustain the glitter of a court, and the people have 
followed the old customs too long to be satisfied without it. The 
Comte de Chambord may not want the government of the French 
people, but the people may possibly want him before long. If 
the Senate and Ministry would put an end to the agitation of the 
Expulsion Bill, a great point would be gained; for the longer 
squabbles are kept up over this trifling question, the more fully 
will the royal families realize their power. If the young Prince 
Imperial had lived there would be but a mere chance for the 
Republic; and as things are, it is resting on a very insecure basis. 
All rests with M. Ferry. If he is energetic and active in his 
measures, the government may yet be secure. But the Ministry 
does not promise much. The questions of the Separation of 
Church and State and the revision of the Constitution have not 
been touched upon. Gambetta was certainly a power. There 
has probably been no great public man whose policy, influence 
and genius have been so doubted, and whose actions have been 
so misjudged. His moderation, say the critics, was feigned, his 
blunders were great, and his attitude towards the Church unpar- 
donable. Against this last assertion nothing can be said. But a 
sham moderation could not have formed a Republic. It was a 
liberal, steady, persevering policy which saved France. No one 
will deny that Gambetta had the instinct to see what would result 
from "shamming moderation." His great speech of 1874 shows 
how the rash opinions of his youth had been changed by experi- 
ence. The Republicans had before made much of every small 
difference between themselves and the other parties, overlooking 
the great questions on which all agreed, and regarding only the 


non-essentials on which the}' differed. Until 1874 the Extreme 
Left denied the "constituent powers" of the Assembly; but in 
a clear and pointed speech Gambetta asserted the authority of 
that body, and the rights it had in the government of the State. 
This was a great step gained. Gambetta's policy was faulty in 
that he had no head for details ; he could neither understand nor 
unravel them ; but his views as to what the country really needed 
were correct and far-seeing. The French Republic is reeling 
from his loss. 

Besides the troubles and broils at home, the French have 
insanely imagined that they could retrieve the fatal Egyptian 
mistake by picking a quarrel with England on the question of 
Madagascar. Her claims on the island are of the poorest. She 
claims the right of discovery, but Portugal possesses that. She 
appeals to the treaty of Lambert, made (in 1862) with Radama 
II. (when he was intoxicated) — a piece of waste paper, since it 
was revoked by the next monarch; and to the treaty of 1868, 
which was simply a treaty of commerce between two nations. 
There is a great deal of pompous talk about the rights of France 
and the grasping policy of England, but it all dissolves into 
nothing. Contrast the work of the two nations on the island. 
It is true France once had colonies there, but their sole object was 
the slave-trade. The French have never until uow demanded a 
right to interfere in the laws of the country. They have very 
rarely attempted to better the condition of the natives, and the 
much vaunted Lambert treaty was the result of excesses encour- 
aged by the Frenchmen. The English have always been allowed 
to anchor their vessels in the harbors of the island and they have 
done much to civilize it; they have introduced Christianity and 
have given the reigning queen Ranavalo II. much sensible advice. 
During the present century Madagascar has risen from a barbarous 
to a semi-civilized condition. It is now a Christianized island 
with a good, sound government. So grateful is she for the 
services of England that she will probably, during the coming 
struggle, if struggle there be, offer her the protectorate of the isle. 

ST. .MARY'S MUSE. 187 

France in her upturned condition is not able to undertake a 
war with England. England is now very prosperous. She came 
off with Hying colors in the matter of Egypt, and her wisdom 
and moderation are praised everywhere. Her internal condition 
is good, and with Gladstone as Prime Minister, she could not fail 
to win. Altogether the present situation of France is perilous to 
herself and of thrilling interest to the world. 

One of the great historians of the century has passed 
away. J. Richard Green died recently at Mentone after years of 
continual ill-health. He was only 45 at his death, but the works 
which he has published have given him a place among standard 
historians. To us, who know him through his " History of the 
English People," the tidings that his work was ended were very 
sad. The philosophical study of history is a growth of the past 
century, and it has been cultivated extensively among the 
Germans ; but no English scholar has contributed more to the 
science than Green. His history is not a mere recital of the 
reigns of the different monarchs but a careful search into all the 
influences and forces which make up the Constitution. The 
people and not the king represent the country; it is their needs 
which have formed the government ; little by little the king has 
had to give up his absolute rule. He became powerless against 
the force of popular opinion. 

Mr. Green was not only gifted with a clear searching intellect, 
but also with lively powers of narration. The life and death of 
such men as Bede are touchingly described, and no romance could 
arouse more fully our enthusiastic interest in Wallace or Bruce. 
A portrait of Mr. Green appeared recently in Harper's Weekly. 
The high broad forehead and penetrating eye lead us to expect 
that nicety in balancing character, and in tracing out the results 
of each political action, which arc so conspicuous in his histories. 
Until shortly before his death Mr. Green was engaged upon a 
work, which all must regret that he did not live to complete. 

The 6th of April was the four hundredth anniversary of 
the immortal Raphael's birth. The Italians, in honor of the 


occasion, unveiled at Urbino, the birth-place of the great master, 
a splendid monument of Carara marble. This late exhibition of 
his countrymen's love causes us to turn with redoubled interest to 
the study of the life and works of the great painter. Raphael 
was born in Urbino on Good Friday, April 6th, 1483. Nature 
bestowed upon him the rarest gifts of genius, and fortune too 
smiled brightly upon him. His remarkable talent was early dis- 
played, and at the age of twelve when Perugino, afterward his 
instructor, was shown some of his childish productions he ex- 
claimed, " Let him be my pupil; he will soon become my master." 
We know how this prophesy was fulfilled. At an age when his 
great rival, Michael Angelo, had painted nothing of importance, 
he had given to the world numerous Madonnas, the celebrated 
"Marriage of the Virgin," which was his first great work and 
is now in Milan in the Brera Gallery, and several exquisite pic- 
tures of " The Holy Family." NothiDg but love for his art 
could have inspired him to such countless productions. It is his 
heart in his pictures which arouses our noblest and best feelings. 
Unlike Michael Angelo, Raphael did not disdain portrait paint- 
ing, and most of the noted men of his time sat for him. It was 
in Rome, in painting the halls of the Vatican commonly known 
as the Stanze, that he reached his greatest excellence. In " The 
Transfiguration," his last work, those capable of judging have 
said that he united all the good qualities of other artists. Just 
when he had attained the perfection of his art, his busy hand 
was stayed. He died on his birthday in 1520. Before consign- 
ing his body to the grave they placed it in the room in which he 
was accustomed to paint, and over it was hung his magnificent 
picture of "The Transfiguration." 

Of course only those who are so fortunate as to see Raphael's 
works in the original can know him thoroughly the greatest 
of painters; but judging of their beauties from copies and en- 
gravings we too can admire him. 

We have only to look around the walls of our school-room to 
study his cartoons, and in the parlor hangs the Madonna della 
Sedia. Raphael's Madonnas are too well known to need descrip- 


tion. There is an air of simplicity about them which marks the 
woman brought up far away from the vanity and wickedness of 
the world; and this, combined with the graceful contour of face 
and form, renders them wonderfully attractive. The cartoons 
were designed for the tapestries in the papal chapel, and their 
subjects were chosen from the lives of the Evangelists and the 
Acts of the Apostles. After the tapestries were completed the 
cartoons were purchased by Charles the First of England and are 
still to be seen in South Kensington Museum. The tapestries 
were so beautiful that the Pope bought them at an immense price 
and placed them in the Vatican where they still remain, but so 
faded that the effect of their beautiful coloring is entirely lost. 
We have only seven cartoons of the original series of ten, three 
being lost. That in which Raphael surpassed all his contempo- 
raries was grace and in his cartoons we see this in perfection. 
If in the few years of his life he reached a height to which none 
could follow, who can say how high his transcendent genius 
would have led him in after years. 


What was Talleyrand? His name is on everyone's lips 
but his character is an enigma of which we hope to obtain the 
solution in the letters which he left to be published thirty years 
after his death. He died in 1838; in 1868 they ought to 
have been published, but Napoleon III. obtained the consent of 
the Duke of Montmorency, in whose charge they were, to defer 
their publication twenty-two years. The book before us, "The 
Correspondence of Talleyrand and Louis XVIII. during the 
Congress of Vienna," is but a foretaste of these letters. M. 
Pallain, the editor of this correspondence, states in his preface 
that Thiers consulted it while writing his "Histoiredu Cousulat 
et de l'Empire." From it he must have learned the attitude of 


the Allies at the Congress of Vienna: how France was at first 
excluded from all consultations, and even the presence of Talley- 
rand avoided by the other ministers; how the great tact and 
diplomacy of the man came into play; how he succeeded in 
winning over to his side, the English ambassador and even the 
bitter opponent of France, the Emperor Alexander of Russia. 
He also learned that even the stately heads of empires stooped 
to wrangle over countries as children do over the best piece of 
cake. Prussia would insist on annexing Saxony. The Emperor 
supported her in her designs. France, represented by Talley- 
rand, and England, by Lord Castlereagh, were fully determined 
that Saxony should not be annexed. The quarrel might have 
ended in a war, had not Napoleon astonished them all by escap- 
ing from Elba and presenting himself in France at the head of 
an army. Talleyrand's strong point was "legitimacy"; and he 
talked much of principles, but did not always "practice what he 
preached." This at least is what we have learned from these 
letters. If in any way they resemble those which are to come, 
the latter will be of untold value to future historians. So great 
is the eagerness of men of letters to see their contents that several 
times it has been rumored they were about to be published. 
But for seven years more we must possess our souls in patience. 
Talleyrand said that these letters would explain his conduct 
during the revolution. They may not only explain his conduct, 
but that of all the prominent men with whom he came in contact 
during his long public career. They will no doubt bring to 
light many hidden intrigues, and the causes of events which 
have heretofore been concealed. 

Talleyrand visited England in 1807 but did not meet with a 
very cordial reception. Through the influence of Pitt he was 
compelled to leave almost immediately, and he then came to 
America. Perhaps the great statesman feared he would corrupt 
English politics, for Talleyrand was regarded as almost a second 
Machiavelli. In America he made a fortune and studied our 
institutions and commerce. It would be very interesting to 
know what he thought of our country, where he lived, and with 

ST. MARY'S M USE. 191 

what he occupied himself while here; but as yet we know noth- 
ing concerning this visit. Fie had been destined for the Church, 

DO 7 

but early proved himself more of a statesman than a churchman. 
Mirabeau was one of his firm friends and he sat with him and 
Neckar in the Tiers-etat. 

Lamartine thus describes him in his thirtv-eio;hth vear: "His 
fine and delicate face revealed in his blue eyes a luminous, yet 
frigid, understanding, whose perspicuity was never dimmed by 
sensibility. The elegance of his figure was scarcely injured by 
a slight lameness; but this infirmity seemed like a voluntary 
hesitation, and he knew how to convert into graces even his 
personal defects. His voice was grave, soft, and tender, and 
seemed to carry with it the conviction that he was the man who 
would gain most readily the ear of all powers, nations, tribunes, 
women, emperors, and kings. A sardonic smile, with which was 
mixed a visible desire of fascinating, played around his lips; 
this smile seemed to indicate the 'arriere pensee' of deceiving 
men, whilst he charmed or governed them." 

Talleyrand died in his eighty-fourth year, after active political 
life of forty-nine years. 

Nothing so interesting has come under our notice for 
some time as Miss Yonge's last novel, "Unknown to History." 
It is charming to come suddenly upon something quite new 
about an illustrious personage, whose history we think we have 
exhausted. Every one reads volume after volume on Mary 
Queen of Scots, but few have ever heard that she had a daughter. 
Whether the story is true or not, we cannot say; it is certain 
that Mrs. Strickland gives it scant credence. But many years 
after Mary Stuart's death the tradition was current, with which 
Miss Yonge has taken a novelist's license, and which she has 
converted into a charming romance. The plot is as follows. 
Richard Talbot, a seaman in Queen Elizabeth's service, brought 
to his home in the spring of 1567 an infant saved from a sink- 
ing vessel. The child was received and cherished by Mistress 
Talbot as if it had been sent from heaven to take the place of 


her little daughter, who had died some months previous. 
Richard Talbot was cousin to the Earl of Shrewsbury, and when 
Queen Mary was imprisoned at Shrewsbury Castle, Richard 
was appointed gentleman porter. From this time, Cicely, as the 
little waif had been called, was thrown constantly with the 
Queen, and discovery follows discovery until the truth comes out, 
that she is the daughter of Mary Stuart. Immediately after her 
birth, she had been put on a vessel bound for France, that she 
might be safe from English hands; the ship had been wrecked 
and Mary thought that her babe had shared the fate of the other 
passengers. The joy of the poor captive Queen at the recovery 
of her child is touching. It seems as if this one blessing had 
come to comfort her in her imprisonment, that she might not be 
wholly desolate. She is always tender and devoted to her 
daughter, eveu giving up her schemes of an ambitious marriage 
for her, because such a marriage might place her child in danger. 
The story shows us the best side of Mary's character, for it gives 
us her life with her friends, and we know that she was ever 
gentle and loving to them, so much so that one and all were 
ready to lay down their lives for her sake. Her daughter is not 
exactly what we would picture as the daughter of Mary Queen 
of Scots; she is in feature more of a Both well than a Stuart, is 
rather homely than beautiful, but in compensation, she has her 
mother's queenly carriage. Having been bred up in an English 
household, which was particularly strict in those days, she has 
none of the frivolous weaknesses of the mother. The poor 
Queen might have been a truer woman had she been reared in a 
different school than that of Catherine de Medici. Cicely's lover, 
Humphrey, is a type of the true Englishman, more dogged and 
persevering than brilliant and showy; but ready to lay down 
his life for his Queen, and loving Cicely with the devotion of a 
knight of old. Cuthbert Langston is a striking character, one 
of those men who, by reason of the insignificance of their 
appearance, go unnoticed through the world; yet so full of 
meanness that our contempt for him cannot hinder us from fear- 
ing him even while we wonder that so much wickedness can be 


concealed beneath that passive expressionless face. He may be 
compared to Rashleigh Osbaldistone in " Rob Roy." He has 
the same small ill-formed figure, the same plain face, and obser- 
vant eyes; with such a fair-seeming character that none could 
hint evil of him, while every one was loath to speak well of 
him. Indeed the resemblance between the two men is so strik- 
ing, that it almost seems as if Miss Yonge had patterned Lang- 
ston's character after the creation of the greater novelist. 

Miss Yonge's works grow in interest, as their author grows 
in years. Her earlier books have a peculiar place in our hearts, 
yet they cannot be said to possess the intense interest of the later 
ones. In "Pillars of the House," we love Felix and enjoy read- 
ing the story of his noble life, but it would possess a greater 
charm if there were fewer details of everyday events. The plot 
of "Pillars of the House" is laid in our own century; in 
"Unknown to History" the glamour of a romantic age is about 
us. The one is merely a homely narrative of modern life ; the 
other carries us into the presence of a Queen, is founded on an 
unexpected event in her life, and has woven into the story some 
of that wonderful web of trickery that ever hangs around the 
name of Mary Queen of Scots. 

Among our exchanges for this month, we find " Le Fran- 
caise, Revue Mensuelle de Grammaire et de Litterahvve" published 
in Boston, and edited by a Frenchman, M. Jules Levy. In 
looking over the sommaire, we noticed the following articles: 
"Mademoiselle Papa," a pathetic little story; a short sketch of 
"Paul de Cassagnac"; " La Question de Madagascar," and what 
was most interesting of all, an article entitled "Affaires de 
France." It begins with a short account of the families of the 
three aspirants to the French throne, and a translation of a por- 
tion of it may be a not unfitting pendant to the very able article 
of our co-editor on the "Situation in France": 

"There are three families now in existence who have reigned over France: 
The Bourbons, the eldest branch ; the Orleans, the younger Bourbon branch ; 
the Bonapartes. The Bourbons, whose partisans are styled ''Legitimists," are 
only represented by the Count de Chambord, whom his followers call Henri 
V. Count de Chambord is now sixty-three years old; he has no direct heir; 
after his death the eldest Bourbon branch will be extinct. It is perhaps for 


this reason that he is no longer anxious to claim the throne of France. Since 
1830, the date of the fall of his grandfather, Charles X., he has, with the 
exception of a few rare visits, lived away from his country, ahout which he 
knows very little, and by which he is not at all known. There is an abyss 
between them— a whole century. Count de Chambord denies the legitimacy 
of the conquests of the revolution, which lie terms 'the revolt of a minority 
against the wishes of the country.' From time to time, he has written letters 
to one of his partisans, in which he declares that the throne of France belongs 
by right to him, and it is only through him that the country can be saved. 
The knowledge of this is sufficient for his happiness. In reality it would 
make him very unhappy to be crowned. He is a claimant" in spite of himself. 
In 1873, he had only to say the word, and he could have been proclaimed 
king (for how long no one can tell); but he refused to make the slightest 
concession ; he did not wish to be 'the lawful king of the revolution.' Was 
this loyalty, and did he not think, with his ancestor Henri IV., that Paris was 
well worth a mass? Was it prudence, and did lie fear, that according to 
Mareschal MacMahon, 'the chassepots would range themselves against him?' 
Perhaps history will tell. The Count de Chambord is either very prudent or 
he is an honest man. Both, probably. 

"The Orleans family is numerous ; it is descended from the Due d'Orleans, 
brother of Louis XIV.. and has given only one King to France: Louis Phil- 
lippe I., dethroned February 24, 1848. The heir to the throne is the Count 
of Paris, aged forty-five years. In 1873, he recognized the Count de Cham- 
bord as the legitimate head of the Bourbon dynasty; this is what has been 
called 'la fusion des deux branches.' This princely transaction was not per- 
haps scrupulously correct. It was an intrigue against the Republic, which 
had just displayed great generosity towards the Princes; besides there will 
always be between the two houses, the blood of Louis XVI., whose death a 
Due d'Orleans voted. However this may be, so long as the Count de Cham- 
bord lives or will not formally resign the throne, the Count of Paris cannot 
be a claimant. This is why the Orleans Princes are always so quiet in the 
midst of the most violent political agitations. They have no immediate am- 
bition. They doubtless live in hope. They are waiting. 

"The Bonapartes are represented by Prince Joseph Charles Paul Bonaparte, 
known as Prince Napoleon, by the nickname of Plon-plon, and whom the pa- 
pers miscall Prince Jerome, thus giving him the name of his father. He is 
sixty-one years old. He married the sister of the present reigning King of 
Italy, and is the head of the Bonapartes since the death of the Prince Impe- 
rial, who was killed by the Zulus. He is a person whom the French have 
never taken seriously. A true Bonaparte! without faith; always ready to 
swear and to forswear. He has not followed the counsel of La Bruyere, 'Thou 
art great, thou art powerful, that is not sufficient: do that which shall give 
thee esteem.' The Bonapartists (there are still a few) despise him royally. 
He has been to the war, and there covered himself with opprobrium, think- 
ing no doubt with Falstaff, 'Discretion is the better part of valour.'" 


What will advertisers do next? Cards in every form 
have appeared, — "Little Red-Riding Hood" cards, "Patience" 
cards, comic cards, sentimental cards, tragic cards; cards are 
almost exhausted. Then came calendars in every shape imagin- 
able. These were followed by placques, — small placques, large 
placques, round placques, oblong placques, square placques, 
placques in shape of easels, etc. Now they have advanced still 
another step, and books are the rage. There came to us the 
other morning, a dear little book with a very pretty illustration 
on the outside, "The Fairy Catching Fire-Flies to Fill his 
Lantern," and inside an allegory entitled "The Lantern People." 
In reading the first five pages, one would think it a bona fide story 
book; but on the sixth page appears the advertisement of a 
Bible history, as also on the tenth, twelfth, and so on ; until we 
find that we have been gulled by a mere tradesman's trick. Still, 
that did not hinder us from enjoying the pretty story. But 
something more wonderful than the last-named production came 
under our notice lately. The title is that of an old collection 
of English Ballads, " A Paradise of Daintie Devices." Though 
it does contain some of the old ballads, it does not confine 
itself strictly to them, but contains the works of writers as recent 
as Sheridan. It is really a valuable collection, but on the last 
page we read the following announcement, "Pratt's Astral Oil 
is the best illuminating oil for family use." Who would have 
thought that "A Paradise of Daintie Devices" would end in 

Some enthusiasts on the bicycle question are publishing 
an interesting magazine, "The Wheelman." It has gone suc- 
cessfully through its first volume, and the first number of the 
second appears this month. Though the articles are all in the 
interest of the bicycle, the common reader may also find pleasure 
in them. " Pedalling on the Piscataqua" gives a graphic account 
of the tides of that river, and also the places of historic interest 
along its banks. "A Tricycle ride from Paris to Geneva" and 
"A Trip through Eastern Pennsylvania" are profusely illus- 
trated, and give a good idea of the country through which the 


journey is taken. Not being versed in bicycle lore, we can 
hardly do justice to the periodical before us, but we should judge 
from its contents, that it is the joy of every wheelman's heart. 

We beg leave to call attention to the composition of 
one of our little sisters, which appears in this number, and from 
which some really valuable information may be derived. It is 
written in most dignified style. The title is modest; it rather 
suggests to us the clergyman's " one" word more at the end of his 
sermon, while he keeps the congregation in suspense for full 
fifteen minutes. We do not wish to imply that anyone would 
be anxious to get to the end of "A Word Concerning the Con- 
queror," for in reading it, we enjoyed every page, the last as 
much as the first. Still we confess that that is indeed a compre- 
hensive "word," which extends through so many pages. The 
authoress quotes learnedly from Green, Macaulay, Hume, and 
the Saxon Chronicle, not to mention such superficial writers as 
Dickens. Our readers may compare the view of William the 
Conqueror here found, with that given by one of the Editorial 
corps in the article on Archbishops. Our little Prep, has strong 
prejudices, but in her calmer moments she can take an impartial 
view of a question; for after pouring every invective on his 
devoted head, she concludes with an expression of admiration 
for the great Conqueror. 

If our successors begin thus enthusiastically while in the 
Preparatory Department, what will not their work be when 
they take in haud the editorship of the Muse? Verily there 
are brilliant days in store for our little periodical. 


Last year, when visitors were admiring and criticising the 
pretty, varied display of the artistic talent of St. Mary's School, 
a little feeling of regret crept into our hearts. Of course it was 
nothing serious; vacation was too near for that; it was simply 


sorrow at the idea of parting with our specialists, our artists 
from Texas. We felt that St. Mary's would sorely miss their 
presence, and particularly that our Art Room would not soon 
recover the blow. But somehow the gap caused by their absence 
has been filled, and we are looking forward to this June's 
exhibit with as much eagerness and as much pride as ever. We 
even boast that the year of '83 may surpass '82. Quantities of 
china have been decorated. Pretty little tete-a-tete sets, coffee- 
cups, plates, saucers, gentlemen's moustache-cups, — everything 
imaginable in that line. And the painters iu oils have not 
lagged behind. Quaint and pretty plaques, picture-frames, and 
decorated jars everywhere come to view. Besides, since the 
"fresh, blooming Spring" has come, and the pretty little flowers 
have begun to push up from their retreat in dark, mother earth, 
studies from nature have been encouraged. Scarlet Cvdonia 
smiles at us from her background of palest blue, and the bright 
yellow buttercup rests so naturally in her charcoal vase, that 
involuntarily we bend to "get a smell." But our greatest pride 
is our mirror; and by our mirror, we mean, not the mirror on 
Madame Paulin's mantel-piece, nor yet the mirror presented in 
the name of St. Mary's School to Raleigh's last bride, but we 
mean the mirror painted by one of our own fellow-artists. On 
a rich background of shaded blue-grey, droop bright trumpet- 
flowers, peeping out from behind clusters of leaves; two full 
blossoms, and a branch of leaves have strayed from the frame 
and rest lovingly on the face of the mirror itself. We tease our 
little artist by telling her that she paints her pretty blossoms 
on the mirror, not because taste dictates, but because she wishes 
an excuse to get an occasional glimpse of her own sweet face. 
Laying all nonsense aside, no one can say that '83 has not taken 
a step ahead. 

Sachets, "sweet as damask roses," are nearly forgotten. 
Painted hat-bands and Easter memorials have usurped their 
place of favor. Speaking of Easter, we must mention the 
newest thing out in cards — namely — pretty, hand-painted ones 


said to have been finished by the young ladies of Peace Insti- 
tute, which were for sale during the season at Williams' book- 

Our china has been sent north to be baked. We hope soon 
to welcome it back with not one fragile treasure broken. 

The workers in charcoal and crayon deserve particular men- 
tion. Some have been copying the casts of great men. The 
philosophic poet, Goethe, tacked tightly to the drawing board, 
seems unconscious of his humiliating position, but looks down 
upon the flitting scenes of the Art-Room with the air of one 
w 7 ho is consciously superior to ordinary man. But the great 
Virgil wears a different mien. His glance betrays not the 
severity of the philosopher, but the gentle modesty of the poet 
who wished rather to destroy his immortal epic, than to present 
it to the world's critical scrutiny. Some one has even dared to 
limn the stateliest of the Grecian goddesses; and another has 
given us the mischievous little god of love, who was supposed 
to shoot the darts of desire into the bosoms of both gods and 
men. However, our work has not been limited to casts. Three 
lovely callas are rapidly forming into a charming picture. And 
peacock feathers resting in quaint old jars, bright little butter- 
cups, horses standing ready bridled, dogs, landscapes, boys car- 
rying immense baskets to market, — indeed almost everything 
one could think of has been finished. Even drapery, the horror 
of all young artists, is not neglected. The graceful folds are 
well represented, but we confess that, had it not been for our 
art-teacher's encouraging words, we would never have had per- 
severance to complete them. 

In a word our Art Department is in a flourishing condition. 
True, we greatly miss two or three of our fellow-artists who have 
recently left us, but we hope, by the additional zeal of those 
remaining, to make our June exhibit even more pretty and 
varied than in the years gone by. 



FOUNDED 1842.1 




Tlie advantages of this School are of a superior order. The faculty consists 
of fourteen teachers carefully selected for their respective departments. 
Great attention is paid to 


Students of French and German are taught to converse fluently in these 
languages. Latin is a requisite for a diploma. 


is thoroughly equipped. Separate building, heated by steam, 5 teachers, 17 
pianos, a cabinet organ, a fine pipe organ of 2 manuals and 20 stops, and a 



is admirably appointed for painting in oil, water-colors and minerals, drawing 
in crayon and pencil, from casts, flat models and nature. 

For circulars of the School, address the Rector. 


j| Quarterly fQagazntf, 



Vol. V. RALEIGH, N. C, JUNE, 1883. No. 4 



Hindoo and Scandinavian Mythologies .... 

—Emilie W. McVea, Sen. A, 201 

Temples— Mary L. Battle, Sen. A 205 

The Elements of Modern Civilization .... 

—Kate L. Sutton, Sen. A. 208 

Hebrew Poetry — Annie II. Philips, Sen. A 212 

Oi'R Aquarium, by Buddie's Sister — Agnes LeR. Gotten, Jim. B, 21-5 

Alute — Fanny Mel. Lucas, Sen. B.: ^ 217 

Rambles in Baltimore — Sophia I). Thvrntond, Sen. B 222 

The History of Three Little Squirrels .... 

— Margaret I). Hinsdale, Prep. B, 227 

Quelques Souvenirs de mon Enf ance 

—Emilie R. Smede.% Sen. B, 22S 

Little Angela 

— Translated from the French bu Martha A. Dowd, Sen. A, 220 
Editorial— E. E, S, E. W. MrV., L. J. C. 

The Sorcerer — The Ordination at St. Augustine's— Ser- 
vices at St. Mary's — Senator (.'ox's Lecture — The Chil- 
dren's Entertainment — Commencement-Week — Peace 

Institute < 'oncert — Commencement- Day 234 

Roll of Honor 244 

Prog i; a m m e> 240 

Bf/PORT of Offertory 24* 

Literary Notices 249 

A RT-NOTES : 2- r ) 1 




Entered at the Post OOice in Raleigh at second-class rates. 




Fine Teas, Wines, Liauors, Ales, Porters, 


Fayetteville Street, Raleigh, JV. C. 




Bv «TOH[]Sr -W. MOORE. 


ALFRED WILLIAMS & CO., Publishers, 





Every Description of School Printing at Low Rates. 


Vol. V. Raleigh, N. C, June, 1883. No. 4. 


The Hindoo and Scandinavian mythologies, so alike in idea and 
so unlike in their manifestations, have compelled from the world 
u reverence won by no other forms of Paganism. The material- 
' istic religion of the Egyptian, the sensuous worship of the Greek 
and the more elevated philosophy of the Persian never, at their 
purest, attained the sublimity of these two faiths. 

The belief in a Trinity flashed forth from the darkness of the 
ante-Christian era in the Hindoo conception of Brahma the 
Creator, Siva the Destroyer, and Vishnu the Preserver. Cen- 
turies after, in the ice-plains of Scandinavia, its echo finds 
expression in Odin, Thor, and Balder. 

In both religions the dominant idea is strength. All the old 
faiths received their chief modifications from nature. The Hindoo, 
reared amid earth's most luxuriant and extraordinary growths, 
and endowed with a tropical imagination, gave to his gods forms 
which seem monstrous to cooler minds. He was not sufficiently 
a lover of nature to see the incongruity of his hundred-eyed and 
many-handed deities; he wished to show their omniscience and 
power, and this was to him the most natural means of embody- 
ing his idea. The Scandinavian, dwelling in the bleak, rugged 
regions of the North, also felt nature's tremendous force. But 
the gleaming icebergs and glaciers, vast it is true but still pro- 
portioned, conveyed no monstrous thought. Their mighty action 
impressed upon the mind a sense of giant strength united with 
perfect and radiant beauty. But the terrific action of nature 
in the North inclined men to pessimism. In the Scandinavian 


myth the good and true are always overcome by the evil. The 
most harmless weapon in the hand of the wicked becomes pow- 
erful when turned against the pure and virtuous. Balder was 
killed by a sprig of mistletoe, and Loke, the spirit of evil, 
triumphed. The Hindoo found nothing in nature to incline 
him to this bitter belief. The avatars show that he felt the war 
of the same opposing powers; but the god was always victorious, 
good overcame evil. 

The little the Norseman saw of sunny, smiling nature only 
made him love and long for her the more passionately. There- 
fore it is that the Northern mythology has not only the strength 
of the Hindoo but the beauty of the Greek impersonations. No 
creation can be more delicate and fanciful than that of Heimdall, 
the warder of the gods, whose home was in the rainbow, "who 
slept more lightly than the bird," and whose senses were so keen 
"that he could hear the grass grow in the meadows and the wool 
on the backs of the sheep." The idea of this god must have 
come to the Scandinavians in their brief and precious glimpses 
of spring-life. But Thor, the incarnation of the Northern idea 
of strength, is the outgrowth of the hard, struggling lives of 
these people. 

" I am the God Thor, 
I am the War God, 
I am the Thunderer," 

is the wild cry of the mighty giant whose eyes are the lightning 
and the wheels of whose chariot roll in the thunder. His life is 
one of conquest; he gives boldness to the warrior and lends fury 
to the battle. When the Ragnarok comes he will die gloriously, 
triumphing in the death of the Midgard Serpent. 

We may well imagine such a being the ideal of that race from 
which sprang the ancient Vikings, the sea-people strong and dar- 
ing in life and not afraid in death; a people whose desire was to 
fall on- the battle field, and who would burn themselves in their 
war-ships before they would turn to flee and thus be condemned 
as cowards by the great god Odin. 

,ST. MARY'S MUSE. 203 

But all the love of the true and beautiful in both nations was 
concentrated in the characters of Balder and Vishnu. A strange, 
mysterious feeling comes over us as we read of the wonderful 
incarnations of the latter, and of the trembling expectancy of 
the Hindoo as he awaited with heart-sick longing, the last avatar 
which was to restore the earth to innocence and purity, while 
unknown to him, in a Western land, his desire was already ful- 
filled. Vishnu came to earth in his mighty strength to defend 
the prerogatives of the gods. His life was one of war and 
struggle. But Balder, too pure to witness the corruption of 
men, was taken from among the immortals, far into the land of 
the unseen, there to await the destruction of the worlds and the 
consequent outgrowth of the fairer earth over which he was to 
rule. The office of Vishnu is the greater, but the character of 
Balder is the tenderer. Vishnu is an avenger, but Balder is the 
spirit of love. His faithful devotion to Nanna, the Northern 
ideal of pure piety, his beauty, grace and blatnelessness, and his 
early death, draw the sweetest strains from the Scandinavian 
bards. He is the link between Odin and Thor, and, after he had 
passed away, the power of these deities seemed waning. Earthly 
fierceness clung to the Thunderer, earthly craft to the one-eyed 
Odin, but all this was refined and purified from Balder. The 
heart of the fierce Viking grew tender as he thought of the 
beloved of gods and men who would one day return to rule a 
fairer earth. 

" Balder the Beautiful, 

God of the summer sun, 

Fairest of all the gods," 

was dead, but his love and piety still illumined man. 

So similar are the two religions that we may well credit the 
tradition that Odin was a real person, who, after having fought 
with Mithridates in his wars against Pompey, left Asia, his native 
hind, and began his wondrous career in the North of Europe. 
The valor which enabled him, with only a few followers, to 
conquer the whole Northland, filled the hearts of the Norsemen 
with reverence. As years went by, the remembrance of the 


man faded before the glorv of his deeds. These were suns: 
from land to land, each tribe added to them, and at last the 
hero came to be worshipped as a god among the nations of the 
ice-lands. Many things testify to the probability of the legend. 
The name of the gods, Asas or Asen, and that of their home, 
Asgard, points to Asiatic origin. The mysterious "Trimurti," 
the most distinctive feature of the Hindoo belief, finds a place 
in that of the North. Both people recognized a god higher 
and nobler than the other deities. Om, whose name was so 
holy that it might never be uttered, was the God of gods to 
the Hindoo, and the god who should rule earth after the Ragna- 
rok, was the nameless All-father of the Norsemen. 

The Hindoo belief in the emanation of all things from Brahma 
tended to pantheism, which, beautiful and easily intelligible at 
first, has become so abused and corrupted that the religion of 
the Hindoo, grand and noble in its purity, is now one of the 
vilest under the sun. The Northern mythology peopled for- 
ests and rivers with nymphs and nixies; but though the people 
reverenced those beings, they neither worshipped them nor the 
forests and rivers which they inhabited. Nature, as the Edda 
taught, was a beautiful creation of the gods, but it was not a part 
of their divinity. 

Both Scandinavian and Hindoo possessed the idea of immor- 
tality, but in different ways. The souls of the good, according 
to the Scandinavians, awaited in Valhalla the Ragnarok, or 
Twilight of the gods. Atonement must be made by all by 
death; even the gods were not exempt, and gods and men were 
ever expecting the time when earth and heavens should pass 
away; but from the ashes of the burning worlds a new earth 
should spring, more beauteous by far than the old; new-born 
stars should traverse the heavens, and a more brilliant sun and 
moon should lighten the young kingdom; sin and sorrow should 
flee away, and the souls of the good would ever rejoice in the 
glorious presence of the All-father. 

The Hindoo also believed that the spirit lived after death, but 
he thought that it returned to Brahma, from whom it emanated. 


All good came from Brahma, and to him it should ascend. The 
soul was absorbed in the divine being and there found the full- 
ness of joy. The belief of both nations came very near the 
truth. The old Xorthern ideals were flooded with light at the 
moment of their fall, and in the sunlight of the day which is 
now dawning for the Hindoo, Vishnu, too, will pass away. But 
Norse and Hindoo mythology will live to beautify the world of 


When we study the splendid temples of the world or their 
magnificent ruins, it seems as if there could never have been a 
time when they did not exist. But when we look down a vista 
of grand old oaks, and hear the birds singing in the branches, 
there come into our minds the poet's noble words, 

"The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned 
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, 
And spread the roof above them, ere he framed 
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back 
The sound of anthems, in the darkling wood, 
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down 
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks and supplication." 

There our heathen ancestors made their places of worship, and 
oak groves especially they held sacred; the very name of their 
priests and teachers meant a worshipper among oaks. In these 
groves, on altars of earth or stone, they offered terrible human 
sacrifices to their gods. Later, men built houses for worship — 
we cannot call them temples, so different were they from the 
magnificent structures of to-day. They were first simple flat- 
topped buildings; as the imaginations of men became loftier, 
they seemed oppressed with the low roofs, and with minds imbued 
with the beauties of nature, they longed to make their places of 


worship as beautiful. Thence arose columns and friezes, arches 
and domes, while from time to time more beauties were added, 
until we see the wonderful structures of Greece and Rome. 

The oldest temple of which we have any knowledge is that of 
Belus, supposed to occupy the site of the Tower of Battel on the 
plains of Shinar. It was founded by Nimrod two thousand 
years before Christ, and its walls were said by credulous ancient 
writers to be twelve miles high; but even Strabo, the reliable, 
tells us that they were six hundred and sixty feet in height. The 
principal feature of this and of all other Babylonian temples, 
was the tower, which was square and built in stages. Herodotus 
speaks of eight in this temple, but all others had only seven, 
which were variously colored, as some suppose to symbolize the 
heavenly bodies. Thus the sun was golden, the moon silver. At 
the top of the tower was a shriue containing altars and images. 
Great care was taken to have the sides of the tower exactly con- 
fronting the cardinal points. It was used for an observatory as 
well as for religious purposes. From the tower of the temple 
of Belus, one might see the many beauties of the great city 
Babylon, the hundred gates of brass, and the hanging gardens, 
reckoned among the seven wonders of the world. 

The Egyptians delighted in rich, bright colors. Their temples 
always had a large portico, in which the people remained, while 
the priests alone went into the sanctuary. To-day artists are 
lost in admiration at the temple of Jupiter Amnion at Esne, 
still wonderfully preserved. 

The ancient temples of the Hindoos resemble those of Egypt. 
One of them, and that the most celebrated, is the temple at Ele- 
phanta, carved out of the solid rock. Some say that Hindoo 
architecture is older than the Egyptian, but of this we are not 

But the most magnificent temples of the ancient world were 
those of Greece and Rome. From their resemblance to those of the 
Egyptians, we conclude that these nations studied and improved 
upon the ideas of the older empire. The Parthenon, the temple 
of the maiden goddess, though shorn of its ancient splendor, 


remains as a monument of the lost glory of the Athenians. It 
was adorned with the works of the most celebrated sculptors of 
all Greece, and is the unrivalled triumph of sculpture and archi- 
tecture. It was built at a time when Pericles had raised Athens 
to be the mistress of Greece, then at her height of glory, both in 
military and peaceful arts. 

Rome gives us the Pantheon, erected when nearly the whole 
of the known world was under her sovereignty. There was 
seen the first of those vaulted domes for which ancient Rome 
was famous, and which Byzantium and the East afterwards 
adopted. The Pantheon was not the only temple of the time, 
for after every conquest the great warrior-nation raised a mag- 
nificent temple as a thank-offering to its gods. In six hundred 
and seven after Christ, the Pantheon was consecrated to the 
Virgin and all Saints; and in fifteen hundred and twenty, the 
remains of the immortal Raphael found their last resting-place 
within its walls. 

When the Spaniards came over to Mexico they found many 
old temples still standing. The chief of these was the temple 
of the Aztecs. It was surrounded by a wall of stone and lime, 
ornamented with figures of serpents. This temple bears so great 
a resemblance to those of the Babylonians that we cannot help 
thinking that the Mexicans derived their ideas of civilization 
from this ancient nation. The Mexican temple, like the Babv- 
lonian, was built of stone and divided into stories, each one 
smaller than the one immediately below it. The ascent was bv 
a flight of steps which wound round the outside, and the long 
assembly of priests, inarching up to the summit, presented a 
very imposing spectacle to the multitudes below. 

Though these temples are so interesting to us, the temple at 
Jerusalem takes the first place in our hearts, because there the 
true God was worshipped. It was first built by Solomon, and 
being destroyed by the Babylonians, it was rebuilt under Cyrus 
the Persian. A third on the same site was erected by Herod, 
and again destroyed by the Romans, in the same month and on 
the same day of the month that Solomon's temple w r as destroyed. 


If we go to Jerusalem now, instead of the magnificent temple to 
which the children of Israel came to worship, we find the stately 
Mosque of Omar, the great shrine of a false religion. 

Of modern temples, St. Peter's, at Rome, is the most magnifi- 
cent. It is on the site of the ancient gardens of Nero, where so 
many Christians were massacred. An old legend says that the 
bodies of the martyrs were buried by their friends in a grotto 
near by, and among them were the bodies of St. Peter and St. 
Paul. In 306, Constantine founded a church over their graves. 
This remained for eleven centuries, until Nicholas V. demolished 
it, and laid the foundation of the present building. Leo X. 
employed the most celebrated architects to carry on the work, 
and finally Michael Angelo designed the dome as it now stands. 
He intended to make the facade like that of the Pantheon, but 
death removed him, and he left it an unfinished monument of 
his gigantic powers. It was three hundred and fifty years in 
building, and yet has not attained the full beauty of its design. 

But not in the grove that perishes, nor in the work of man's 
hand that cannot fulfil our ideal, is the chosen temple of God. 
It is that other which, after the icy finger of decay has passed 
upon it, rises anew to a more glorious existence. 


In the beginning God created a perfect man in the likeness of 
Himself, not as we now see him, his mind blinded, his body 
undeveloped; but a man of perfect body, perfect mind, perfect 
soul. His home was the garden of delight. All around him 
was sweet music; the rippling of streams, the rustling of foliage, 
and the caroling of birds, mingled into one note of praise. But 
man, the noblest creature, brought a curse upon this beautiful 
creation ; and now we can no longer hear the wonderful celestial 
music, because our world has lost the tune. Yet he who had the 


power to bring this curse upon the earth has — not the power to 
remove it, that needs a mightier hand — but, the curse being 
removed, the power to efface its effects and purify and elevate 
the fallen. 

The nature of man was not immediately ruined ; that perfect 
mind could not have thus suddenly been plunged into the dark- 
ness of barbarism ; nor was that perfect body soon subject to the 
ravages of disease. The world was left as it had been created : 
but the tendency to evil and death was in it. But life was so 
easy at first, everything could take care of itself; and men went 
blindly on until they found themselves in the midst of a great 
ruin. One little band alone remained true to the nature which 
had been given them; they were saved from the wreck to lay 
the foundations anew. 

As men multiplied, each nation nourished apart a civilization 
which modern times has hardly excelled. Egypt, India, Phoe- 
nicia, Greece and Rome, each has contributed her quota to the 
world's culture; that quota has been made kuown to us only in 
the present age. When Napoleon, full of grand schemes of 
conquest, sailed to Egypt and overthrew the Mamelukes, he little 
thought that he had accomplished afar greater end in finding the 
" Rosetta Stone." The great monuments of Egypt have always 
aroused wonder and admiration, but the wonders opened to us 
by this key make them now a precious treasure-house of history. 

At the dispersion of the races one tribe wandered southwest- 
ward. They crossed hot burning sands, their throats were 
parched and dry. "Ah! far better to be overwhelmed by a 
flood, than to be consumed by this slow fire !" But, before many 
suns had set, they heard the rushing of a mighty river, and soon 
came into a valley so beautiful one might have thought it a 
second Eden. They bore in their fate a fearful testimony to the 
true God ; but after a time the blue sky above them looked so 
deep — if God dwelt there He would be too far away to care for 
them: did He not rather dwell in that mighty river which 
regularly overflowed its banks when the land needed it? Also 
the glorious sun, which morning after morning rejoices the whole 


creation with its warmth and light, had it not divine power? and 
animals that did not sin like men, God must dwell in them also. 
Thinking men pondered these things and longed to convey, not 
only to those around them, but to the whole race and to their 
posterity, what they fondly imagined to be the truth; so their 
hieroglyphics were invented, and the beginnings of literature 
made. To repel the encroachments of envious neighbors, the 
nation made war and subjected itself to a leader; thus began 
government and a king. The king wished to preserve the fame 
of his royal deeds and erected monuments whereon were inscribed 
all the great events of his reign ; and thus was recorded the his- 
tory of the land. For these monuments architecture and science, 
mathematics and mechanics, were necessary and sprang into 
existence. The inscriptions tell us of these great inventions. 
It is wonderful what these Egyptians knew ! The proud nine- 
teenth century dare scarce measure herself with old Egypt, which 
until of late she thought sunk in the depth of ignorance. We 
find her making roads and digging canals; indeed, one of the 
greatest wonders of our day, the Suez Canal, was projected by 
the Egyptians in the earliest ages. They had rare poets, though 
not many of their works have been preserved ; a portion of an 
epic, however, we have by the poet-priest Pentaur, and we are 
thus enabled to judge somewhat of the others. But they had 
no great system of philosophy; they were a materialistic race; 
for philosophy we must turn to another land. 

The Indians were part of the great thinking race, the Aryan. 
Surrounded on every side by natural barriers, they had no need 
to defend themselves from invading foes. Living in a warm 
country, they were not active, but were much given to reflection. 
The philosophy found in their ancient books does not differ 
much from that of modern times; in fact, modern philosophy is 
made up largely of ideas which have come indirectly from the 
Hindoos. Pure at first, from trying to search too closely the 
mysteries which are hidden from man, their philosophers wan- 
dered away from the truth. It was said of Aristotle, that he 
was the only man on record who began and completed a science ; 


but it lias been found that not even Aristotle, one of earth's 
master-minds, deserves that praise; he gleaned much of his 
knowledge from the great Indian logician, Kapila. India has 
had many poets — dramatic, epic, lyric, didactic — whose powerful 
imagery has never been excelled. And as they produced in 
abundance " those rare souls, poets," " the only truth -tellers," so 
their philosophy had in great measure the elements of truth. 

The Chaldeans and Assyrians have not been the subjects of 
such thorough researches as the Egyptians and Indians, but in 
all that has been learned about them, there is a knowledge to be 
wondered at, as if it had proceeded from the first creation. 

The Phoenicians, though a little nation, were not without their 
importance. Seamen as they were, they went everywhere, scat- 
tering their little colonies. We know that they went to England ; 
why cannot we suppose that they went further still and estab- 
lished colonies in America? Who knows but that the mound- 
builders, whose origin none can discover, were not originally a 
Phoenician colony? But at least they carried the attainments of 
the older world to newer lauds and were a medium of communi- 

But none of these nations were progressive in their civilization ; 
decay struck at their roots, their light "faded into that of common 
day." On their destruction Greece and Rome sprang up. All 
ages have sung the praises of the former. What other has pro- 
duced a Homer? a Sophocles? a Demosthenes? a Socrates? 
Has any other nation ever had so many men of note? This 
little country, on the map scarcely bigger than your thumb, has 
furnished the whole world with models. Her glory as a country 
was very soon eclipsed, but her glory as mistress of art and 
philosophy will remain forever. Rome brought together the 
knowledge of all nations under her mighty walls, and though 
the Latins were not original in their learning, they were the 
means of instructing the whole world. But it is a law of human 
nature that man cannot exist without religion. Greece and Rome 
had each a religion, but it was of man's invention. Greece put 
to death her glorious Socrates, Rome scorned her Epictetus, who 


were feeling towards the truth. Their governments had not the 
true principle beneath them, and they fell. But in the fall 
everything was not lost; on the contrary, nothing was lost. It 
was as though the dross were purged away, the gold remained. 
Greece was at first fresh and strong, but grew old and degener- 
ate; bold young Rome stepped in, overcame her and carried 
away the treasured art. Rome brought the wealth of all nations 
within her gates, grew sensualistic; and the hardy barbarians of 
the North rushed down upon her and tore away her glory and 
her learning. That which was good and noble survived. Man's 
work goes on. Partly through growth, partly through decay, 
his nature has been purified, has been elevated. The dark ages, 
when it seemed as though everything good and noble had 
perished, was the time when the ground lay fallow, the seed 
germinated and the plant to-day bears a fairer flower. The light 
that then dawned has since flowed unchecked. Nations need not 
now be destroyed that knowledge may be diffused; missionaries 
carry Christianity all over the world, and with Christianity goes 
culture. It almost seems as if this nineteenth century were the 
culmination of all the ages of the world. It is the age of great 
inventions ; it is also an age like none since the prime of Greece, 
when mind and body are alike cared for. We see dimly through 
the mist the great end approaching when man will rejoice again 
in his pristine perfection, but so strengthened that he cannot 


Philologists tell us that Hebrew poetry is the sublimest ever 
listened to by man. They have searched into all the records of 
antiquity, they have compared myth with myth, admired the 
Greek, criticised the Roman, studied the Hindu, wondered at 
the Scandinavian — but they have found not one literature that 
equals the Hebrew in age, originality or importance. Yet it has 
only one theme, but that one is the great Jehovah, the God of 


truth and without iniquity, "The Lord that reigneth, who is 
clothed with majesty." The originators of this literature were 
a wonderful people, fierce, hot-blooded, obeying blindly every 
rash impulse. Possessing such a nature, the cold, even tone of 
the historian was not suited to them; they turned rather to the 
impassioned Lyric, the triumphant Ode, the lofty Prophecy. 
Their language was expressive of their character, and well suited 
to be the tongue of poesy. They were God's chosen people. His 
loving arm guided them; His omniscience warned them; and 
His chosen prophets revealed to them the coming of the Messiah. 

We know not if they had a literature before the time of Moses. 
Indeed it seemed ordained from on high that fame should be 
reserved for the "goodly son of the house of Levi," that he 
should be recognized universally not merely as the deliverer, but 
as the first great and learned writer and law-giver, the benefactor 
of the world. His great Pentateuch, compiled that the Israelites 
might not forget their wonderful history, is the only true account 
existing of the origin of the world. Yet even when writing in 
the tone of the historian, the soul of the noble hero bursts forth 
in poetical strains of praise and thanksgiving. His triumphal 
odes are the sublimest in the world. 

After the time of Moses, and after the Israelites had crossed 
over into Canaan and driven out the giant inhabitants of the 
land, the sweet Psalmist arose to give a voice to adoring love 
and penitential grief. From the pen of his mighty son dropped 
words of wisdom and beauty; Proverbs, Lyrics, and a Pastoral 
Drama — the Song of Songs. 

At different times different writers, inspired of God, added 
more and more to their magnificent literature. The Prophecies 
were by far the most important of these additions, and they 
glow with lofty and inspiring poetry. Their writers felt their 
souls swayed by a greater power than their own, andthey said : 

" The Lord God hath spoken, 
Who fan but prophecy ? 

Publish in the palaces of Ashdod, 

And in the palaces of the land of Egypt, 

And say, Thus saith the Lord." 

214 . ST. MARY'S MUSE. 

True there came many a day of darkness and gloom, many a 
day when the soul sank under the weight of desolation and 
weariness, and the mournful lament wailed forth the misery of 
the fallen Israel. But the heavy heart soon cast aside its sorrow 
and joyously bade the land " Fear not ! be glad, rejoice ! Our 
God will do great things !" 

We are prone to think of these warm-hearted Israelites as of 
the people of some grand old myth. The ancient Greeks and 
Romans seem much nearer to us, more like people of our own 
flesh and blood. Yet Moses did not live so very long before 
Homer. It was but fifteen centuries before the Christian era 
that he led the Israelites from their house of bondage, and 
scarcely five centuries elapsed before the blind old poet wandered 
from house to house begging bread and entertaining his hosts 
with snatches of the grand Grecian Epic. And after Homer's 
death, several hundred years slipped by ere the Evangelical 
Prophet proclaimed that his nation should no more be termed 
Forsaken, nor his land Desolate. Surely we have no right to 
look upon these men as the people of a dream. They were 
intensely real, high-minded, intellectual. They felt intensely, 
they acted intensely, and they wrote intensely. No nation was 
ever so distinguished for originality, and no nation ever regarded 
its traditions with such reverential awe. Amidst all their suf- 
ferings and wanderings they preserved them free from harm, 
and have handed them down to us a perfect monument which 
can never grow old. Unconsciously they wove into them their 
every feeling, and unconsciously they have left us a perfect pic- 
ture of the Hebrew mind. They loved nature, for they personify 
it, apostrophize it, often select from landscapes the images which 
suit the momentary passion. They were devoted to music, for 
they make frequent mention of their popular songs, and speak 
of harps and timbrels. And they were turbulent and fickle, for 
they often turned to the heathen gods, and as often driven back 
by suffering, they returned with bitter repentance to the Un- 
namable One. They had their faults and they had their vir- 
tues. God gave to them a special mission, one suited to their 


gifts and capacities, and this mission they tell us of in the 
Poetry of Poetry. In everything they have written, whether 
of joy, grief, love or victory, they present a perfect picture. 
Image follows image with forcible rapidity. Truly their poetry 
is the poetry of emotion, and of the deepest and grandest of all 
emotions, inspiration from on high ! 



Nurse is so mad 'cause Buddie has destroyed our aquarium. 

Nurse has traveled all over the world, and seen some grand 
aquariums. She talked to us children about them until we 
wanted one. I asked Papa and Mamma to buy us one, but they 
said they could not. One evening Nurse took us to the pond, 
and Buddie said he did not see why we could not catch some 
minnows and tadpoles, and other little animals, and make an 
aquarium. At first, Nurse would not let us do it, but we begged 
so hard she said we might. So we caught some minnows, tad- 
poles, and a beautiful little terrapin. We then got a large glass 
bowl, filled it full of water, aud put them in. We put a rock in 
the middle, because Nurse said that would make the whole thing 
look like a sure-enough aquarium. Then we put the little 
minnows and other little animals in, and waited to see what they 
would do. 

The terrapin staid at the bottom all the time, with its head in 
its shell, until a fish drew near; then it put its head out and 
snapped at the fish. The first day we found many of our fish 
dead. We did not know what had killed them, but we soon 
found out it was the terrapin. Then I wanted to kill it, but 
Nurse said we could not have a sure-enough aquarium without 
a turtle. Buddie said we could cut its head off and put its body 


at the bottom, and it would do all right; it kept its head in all 
the time anyway; but Nurse said animals always ate each other, 
and we let it alone. 

The tadpoles were the most curious animals I ever saw. One 
of them had a large place on each side that Buddie said looked 
like a wen. Nurse said she didn't know what it was. Soon the 
tadpole had two real feet and legs. Buddie said he thought it 
was going to be a mermaid, but Nurse said it was a monstrosity. 
Buddie said he did not believe there was such a thing as a 
monstrosity, for he had never seen one; but I reckon Nurse 
knows. In about two weeks the tadpole had four legs. It used 
to come to the top of the water to breathe about every hour. 
Nurse said she believed it w T as going to turn to something that 
had to live out of the water, because it came to the top to breathe. 
I thought it looked like a frog with a tail. In a week the tail 
came off, and it was a real true frog. So I don't reckon it was 
a monstrosity. Buddie said he was disgusted: he had thought 
it would turn to something better than a frog. 

Buddie caught a funny little animal that Nurse said was a 
salamander. She said it was a valuable animal, for if you 
poured melted lead on it, the lead would turn to gold; and, if you 
hung the heart of a salamander around your neck, fire could not 
burn you. So we put the creature in our aquarium. Buddie 
came in the next day and told Nurse she was a humbug, 'cause 
he had been pouring lead on that salamander all the morning, 
and not one bit had turned to gold. Nurse went to look for the 
salamander and found it in the yard with hot lead all over it. 
She was awful mad. Buddie said she would not have been so 
mad if that lead had turned to gold. 

One day Nurse and I went to the pond and caught an eel. 
Nurse said she knew Buddie would trouble it, if she did not tell 
him it would hurt him, so she told him it was an electric eel, 
and, if he touched it, he would not be able to move for a long- 
time, for it would give him an electric shock. He said, yes, he 
had heard of electric eels, and they certainly were dangerous. 
The aquarium got on well for some time longer, and Papa said 


it was so nice he would help me. So lie bought us three lovely 
little gold-fish. Xurse said they were worth more than every- 
thing we had. 

This morning Buddie told me he was going to see if Xurse 
would tell a story. He asked her if the fish were solid gold, and 
she said yes. Buddie said, "Xurse, you know you tell stories, 
for those fish you call gold are only minnows painted like gold, 
for just look here!" and he held out in his hand one of our dear 
little gold-fish, dead and broken all to pieces. Xurse was so 
mad she did not say a word. Then Buddie made a face and 
said he would go fishing with the gold-fish. In an hour he 
came in with a string of minnows and said he had had good luck. 
When Xurse went to look at our aquarium it was empty. Bud- 
die had gone fishing there and caught evervthing. 

Xurse is just awful mad, and says Buddie is most as bad as 
Georgie Hatchet. 

She says she won't ever have another aquarium. 


It was during the latter part of the winter of '75, when the 
days first began to lengthen and warn us that spring was near, 
that our long wished-for pet arrived. We christened her Alute, 
but even her warmest admirer could not with candor avow that 
the beauty of the name extended to her person, for she was 
a sorry looking little object. But there was an air about the 
small creature that bespoke high breeding, from the slender and 
well-shaped limbs to the graceful head adorned with eyes that 
would have redeemed any countenance from the accusation of 
plainness; such soft pleading eyes, that a glance from beneath their 
long drooping lashes was sufficient to melt the hardest heart. 
And truly she did need our sympathy; for, in addition to her 
tender years, she still keenly felt our apparently cruel purchase 



which had effected her separation from home and friends. I 
trust that the interest of my fair readers will not be diminished 
on learning that the possessor of the beautiful liquid eyes was 
none other than a little Jersey calf; in short, her name was Alute 

Before going further, a few words concerning her ancestors 
may not be amiss. They were natives of the Island of Jersey, 
and like all the cattle of that island, boasted such a pedigree as 
could silence beyond doubt any question that might have arisen 
concerning her rank, had her abearance been less indicative of 
high birth. The origin of the family is so ancient as to be 
shrouded in mystery, but the most plausible theory is that it 
came from Normandy or Brittany to Jersey a thousand years ago 
or more. Indeed, nearly two thousand years ago, when Csesar 
was invading the barbarous countries of the North, he remarked 
that the Gauls, by whose people the Island of Jersey was popu- 
lated, "delighted greatly in fine cattle." The Island, though 
adjacent to the coast of France, and having French for its 
language, has been an appendage to the English crown since the 
days of William the Conqueror. It is a pretty island, they tell 
us, and we can readily imagine what a picturesque spot it must 
be with its wave-beaten shore, and ever green hills and valleys. 
A place of unending pleasure to well-bred kine as they roamed 
through its glens, nibbled its rare and beautiful ferns, and gazed 
dreamily towards the sea-girt horizon. There, too, they reigned 
supreme, their high-bred nature unoffended by companions of a 
form less fair, and the stillness of the air broken by the low of 
no common cows. Jersey is the southernmost of the Channel 
Islands, and though fifteen degrees north of us, its climate is so 
modified by the Gulf stream that most of the tropical fruits and 
flowers grow in luxuriance without protection. The winters are 
not so cold nor the summers so hot as in South Carolina. The 
fertility of the soil is maintained by the use of sea-weed 
which is drifted on the shore in large quantities. Grass is green 
throughout the entire year, so that pasturage is an easy matter. 
We cannot then wonder that under these favorable circumstances 


the cows of this island became renowned for the richness of their 
products. More than a hundred years ago they had established 
a reputation for excellent butter. Unlike many of high degree, 
their lineage remained unbroken, for in 1789 the importation of 
all foreign cattle, save from the Island of Guernsey, was inter- 
dicted by legal enactment. 

As yet the number of Jersey cattle in the South is quite lim- 
ited, owing to the difficulty of transportation and their price. 
But though expensive, they soon amply reward the purchaser; 
and in short, like the good little girls in story-books, they are 
not only pretty but useful, and so good as to realize the fondest 
expectations of their friends. This is why they were brought 
to live in America, and "down South." 

To obtain the best results in butter-making, it is necessary to 
possess good cows, and for milking purposes the Jersey is as yet 
without a rival, being also quite hardy and patient of confine- 
ment. And, though they may be deprived of the fair pastures 
of their fatherland, that spirit which invariably distinguishes the 
high-born from those of an inferior rank enables them to bear 
discomfort and even misfortune cheerfully. 

But it is time I described our little Alute as she was when 
first she came to us. Very great was our delight at the thought 
of possessing such a treasure, and we could scarcely restrain our 
impatience until the day arrived on which she was expected. I 
can well recollect my disappointment when the little thing was 
driven into the yard with a rope tied round her neck. I had 
always heard that these creatures were so gentle that thev would 
follow you about like a dog, and I had built more than one air- 
castle respecting this same Alderney, how I was going to fasten a 
beautiful blue ribbon round her horns and gaily lead her to pas- 
ture on the velvety terraces when I would sit close by under the 
shade of a pear-tree until she finished her repast. Imagine 
my feelings when, instead of the beautiful cow my fancy had 
painted, I spied au ugly little calf of a dirty white and yellow 
color, and with scarcely the promise of horns. The men had 
no sooner undone the rope from her neck than the "dar- 

220 -ST. MARY'S MUSE. 

ling" rushed at us with all her might and main, striving her 
utmost to upset us. I fear that her treatment at our hands 
would have been anything but gentle, had not our kind father 
reminded us that she was tired and hungry, and had come a 
great distance in a close car. Alute, as I have said we named 
her, improved decided!} 7 on acquaintance, and day by day grew 
more attached to my father, whom she soon followed everywhere. 
Whenever she saw him coming, she would go up to him and 
hold out her beautiful head to be scratched and petted, with such 
a tender appeal from her soft fawn-like eyes that it was quite 
impossible to refuse her anything. But to the present day she 
strictly maintains her hatred of small children. 

As we have before intimated, birth, breeding and beauty go a 
long way, but with a cow something more is essential, and with 
us at Kenmoor the particular something was the supply of 
milk. Alute nobly fulfilled her mission in this respect. Let 
us take a peep at the dairy. During the spring it is truly an 
inviting spot. In the winter it is not so interesting, but that 
is not Alute's fault, for even the Alderneys suffer from lack 
of fresh food, and the milk is far from possessing the rich color 
that it attained during the spring and summer months. The 
dairy is situated at the foot of a steep hill, whose descent is ren- 
dered very gradual by a succession of terraces carpeted with 
blue-grass, bringing to one's mind a land as lovely as that of 
Alute's forefathers, the dear old blue-grass country. The dairy 
is built of granite, and in summer is completely hidden from view 
by a profusion of beautiful Cherokee and pink roses; the yellow 
jasmine, too, adds its fragrance to the already scent-laden air. 
And now for the inside; there is no floor, but a beautiful little 
stream flows rapidly through the centre. In this stream the 
milk-cans are placed so that the cream never wheys. This is a 
great saving, for the intense heat would otherwise reduce it to 
half the usual quantity, and that which remained would be so 
sour as to make the butter anything but palatable. Every pan 
and bowl is filled to the brim with the foaming milk just brought 
in by the dairy-maid, whilst at some more remote spot huge 


bowls of* clauber tempt the eye; hard by stands the great curd 
press in the shape of a heart, and I can assure you it requires 
no little skill to extract the heart, after the whey has been 
removed, without damaging its snowy form. Southern people 
consider this one of the greatest of all delicacies. To see the 
great churn emptied of its golden contents, and the ingenious 
butter- worker in full swing, it would be necessary, gentle reader, 
to leave this enchanting spot for a few minutes, and go about a 
stone's throw to dairy Number Two, which is probably not so 
picturesque but perhaps more interesting. Everything is matter- 
of-fact. Xo dainty Hettie Poyser with dimpled arms coaxes 
and pats the golden balls to perfect roundness. Indeed one sees 
no butter, and the vision which meets your eye is not lovely. 
A great darkey damsel, whose dress even is not picturesque, and 
whose brawny arms could not dimple, but can turn the crank of 
the Patent Butter- Worker, greets you with no pretty blush, but 
a thorough African grin. Never mind if the picture is less 
artistic, the work is more quickly and better done. After churn- 
ing, Chloe has only to remove the butter from the churn into 
the butter-worker, soon to be takeu thence quite ready for the 
table. I well remember the first golden butter made from 
Alute's rich cream, and how much we all admired it. By the 
unanimous vote of the family, it was decided that this butter 
was worthy of exhibition at the Semi-annual County Fair, 
which happened to take place at about that time. After much 
unnecessary patting and squeezing, the butter was finally ar- 
ranged according to the dictates of mother's fancy. We thought 
that the committee could not fail to bestow a premium on it; 
but our hopes were doomed to disappointment ; for after sampling 
all specimens, the committee held a consultation, and agreed in 
pronouncing Alute's butter "excellent," and quite deserving of 
a premium, if it had not been colored; finally they awarded the 
prize to some which certainly could never have been accused of 
coloring matter. We were quite indignant at the slight cast 
upon Alute, but consoled ourselves by attributing it to the 
ignorance of the judges, and decided that no one could appre- 


ciate her butter; from henceforth the vulgar public should have 
no opportunity to judge Miss Alderney. • 

But time presses, and ere I bid you farewell, one last word as 
to our dear pet. May she, as all good cows should, live happy 
all the days of her life. Very long we cannot hope it to be, for 
already the hand of time has touched her thoughtful brow. 


We had passed a delightful summer in the mountains of Vir- 
ginia and were expecting to return home, when father announced 
his intention of taking us to Baltimore for the "Oriole." Ac- 
cordingly the morning of the second of October found us at 
Barnum's Hotel. Not far away was the City Hall, a handsome 
edifice, occupying a whole square, while near by stood Battle 
Monument, erected in commemoration of the death of those 
citizens who fell in the defence of Fort McHenry on September 
12th and 13th, 1814. It was on this occasion that Francis Key, 
a prisoner on board a British man-of-war, wrote the "Star- 
Spangled Banner." The monument, of white marble, fifty-three 
feet high, is 'fasciated, and bears the names of those who per- 
ished; it is surmounted by a figure representing the city of 
Baltimore; on the head a mural crown, in one hand a rudder, 
in the other a crown of laurel. 

That afternoon we sallied forth for a glimpse of our sur- 
roundings. Washington Monument towered above the houses 
in the distance, and thither we directed our course. We found 
it on an eminence at the intersection of Charles and Monument 
streets, and in the centre of an ornamented spot called Mount 
Vernon Place. The stately Doric column of white stone is two 
hundred feet high. Heedless of all warnings, we young people 
insisted on climbing the stairs for the view. Even the strongest 
were exhausted when we descended, and we were glad to rest at 


the Peabody Library, near by. This magnificent building was 
endowed by one of Baltimore's citizens, George Peabody, with 
$1,240,000. We entered first the reading-room, where no one 
is allowed to speak above a whisper, and the light is so admira- 
bly managed that the weakest eyes can read without pain or 
injury. Passing on through the next door, we stood in the book- 
room, on whose shelves are seventy-one thousand volumes. 
Next we visited the Conservatory of Music, and, last in order 
but first in interest, the Art Gallery. The general collection, 
given by Mr. John W. Garrett, of Baltimore, consists chiefly of 
plaster casts copied from all the most celebrated antiques of 
European collections; but our attention was more attracted by 
the special corridor and gallery devoted to Rinehart, Baltimore's 
native sculptor. Here is his master-piece, the "Mad Clytie"; 
there "Endymion" doomed to perpetual sleep. A bronze copy 
of this work has been placed over Rinehart's tomb in Green- 
mount Cemetery. Besides these there are his colossal statue of 
Chief-Justice Taney; three striking pieces after Michael Angelo, 
a gigantic figure of David, the "Prisoner Defiant" and the 
" Prisoner Asleep"; Latona; Antigone; and many others. 

Next day we determined to visit Druid Hill, said to be the 
most beautiful of Baltimore's parks. The way was long, and 
we took a street-car to the Madison avenue entrance. A police- 
man stood guard, but, observing that everybody went straight in 
without questioning him, we did the same. We followed the 
road leading to the Mansion House. For some distance on each 
side are rows of tall brown-stone urns filled with flowers and 
vines. Then the way is bordered with graceful young chestnuts. 
As we advance, the trees become thicker, larger, and more varied ; 
but their natural growth and grouping are their principal charm. 
The whole is, in fact, more like a wood than a park. Family 
parties have picnics on the grass; children run about gathering 
the wild flowers; shady walks wind by cool springs; and fine 
drives extend in every direction. On one side is the Mount 
Royal Reservoir, in the centre of which is a beautiful fountain 
that plays all day long in warm weather; on the other, in a little 


dell, lies the boating lake, small and rather muddy, but answer- 
ing the purpose well enough. After pausing at the Mansion 
House to take some ice-cream, we went on to the menagerie and 
the Maryland Building, with its collection of Indian curiosities, 
coins, stuffed birds, and reptiles. The menagerie is a meagre 
affair, and a sorry sight it was to see those poor caged bears, 
monkeys, guinea-pigs, parrots, and foxes. We were glad to 
turn from them to the shy deer sporting in the grass, and the 
bold little ground-squirrels that ran across our path. The Park 
is most resorted to on Sunday afternoons, when the poor bring 
the little ones to enjoy these pleasures free to all. It covers six 
hundred and ninety-three acres, and was bought in 1860. It is 
said that the poor gentleman who sold it repented and tried to 
get it back, and that, failing to do so, he died of a broken heart. 

The following day being Sunday, we went to church at St. 
Paul's. Looking at the exterior, you would never suspect it to 
be a church ; but the inside fully undeceives you, and the fine 
music of its organ and boy-choir more than compensates for the 
lack of external ornament. It stands on the site of the first 
church Baltimore ever possessed, but it is not itself very old. 
The city has several very handsome churches, some of brown- 
stone, some of white marble. 

That week we spent in visiting all the remaining places of 
interest, foremost among which may be named Patterson Park, 
the gift of the citizen of that name. Its flower-plots are the 
perfection of horticultural art. Its conservatory is the largest 
in Baltimore, and contains many rare plants. Federal Hill 
Park is an elevated plateau eighty-two feet above water-mark, 
and crowned with an old signal service observatory, commanding 
a fine view of the city, river and shipping. Eutaw Place is a 
charming walk on Eutaw street, adorned with grass-plots, 
flower-beds, fountains, statues, shrubs, young trees, pink-aud- 
white stone pavements, and fancy lamp-posts. There are hand- 
some houses of the Queen Anne style on either side. The Johns 
Hopkins University, another magnificent legacy of a private 
citizen, is a graceful group of buildings of red brick with white 


stone finishings and a pretty flower-garden in front. Compared 
with New York, Baltimore has few rich men, yet no city can 
show more proofs of their liberality. 

One of the ten monuments of the Monument City is in mem- 
ory of the poet Poe, to whom, in life, it gave encouragement, 
and in death a noble grave Baltimore, like the State to which 
she belongs, has ever been a place of refuge. Persecuted Roman 
('at holies and Puritans planted the colony of Maryland a hun- 
dred years before the little town of sixty acres was laid out; in 
1756 some wandering Acadians found at Baltimore a haven of 
rest; in 1792 refugees from San Domingo there received a 
warm welcome; and since the late war many a poor Southern 
family has found a home among its friendly, unostentatious 

As we see all the beauties of this eminently beautiful city, we 
find it difficult to realize that one hundred aud fifty years ago 
its site was occupied by tobacco plantations and rugged hills, 
with only three dwelling-houses, a mill, some tobacco-houses, 
and an orchard way down in the southwest corner. Yet such it 
was in 1729. In that year, in compliance with a petition of the 
settlers near the Patapsco River, certain commissioners appointed 
by the Legislature bought the land on which the original town 
stood from Daniel and Charles Carroll, paying at the rate of 
forty shillings an acre, or nearly §600 in our currency. The 
limits have since been enlarged, but the city as first laid out was 
in the shape of an Indian arrow-head, with the point to the west. 
A small stream called Jones's Falls divides the "old" from the 
"new" town. In 1752 there were twenty-five houses and two 
hundred inhabitants. Ten years ago a part of the northwest 
section near Druid Hill Park was covered with market-gardens; 
and even now, although it is built up in beautiful red brick and 
marble-front houses, and moreover has lines of street-cars run- 
ning through it, some of the trades-people who live far down on 
Baltimore and Lexington streets disdainfully call it the "coun- 
try"; but this is when you ask them to send up a bundle. The 
streets of Baltimore are irregular and confusing both in their 


names and direction. In the old part of the city they are toler- 
ably straight, but in the new they twist and turn so that it is no 
uncommon thing for a street to run at right angles with itself. 
As to the names, sometimes one street has two, and again two or 
three have oue. Many of them have of late been called avenues. 
Baltimore, together with some of our other large cities, has a sys- 
tem of "ground rents," as it is called, by which one may own 
the house he lives in but not the ground under it. At the end 
of a certain time the ground may be bought ; but if you do not 
avail yourself of this opportunity, you will have to wait for the 
expiration of another period, which your landlord may lengthen 
as he chooses from one to ninety-nine years. As land needs no 
insurance, a safer investment than "ground rents" cannot be 
made, and men of business deal largely in them. 

Baltimore has invested over $9,000,000 in her water-works, 
which furnish her with a daily supply of 165,000,000 gallons 
against 100,000,000 of New York and 50,000,000 of Philadel- 
phia. There is a large excess beyond consumption, so large that 
every faucet in the city might be allowed to run all day long and 
the waste not be felt, except in making the water better. The 
sources are Jones's Falls and Gunpowder River, with their 
respective reservoirs, Lake Roland and Loch Raven. The latter 
is an artificial basin formed in the bed of the river and beauti- 
fully built up in masonry. An aqueduct sixteen miles long 
brings this water into the city pipes, where it does duty not only 
in houses and pumps, but also in twenty-nine public fountains. 

Oriole week came at length, and a gay spectacle the streets 
presented, with public buildings, business houses of every sort 
and size, and even private residences, all draped with the Oriole 
colors of black and orange, as well as with the national Stars 

CD / 

and Stripes, often not unmingled with the flags of foreign coun- 
tries ! At night the principal shopping streets were one contin- 
uous blaze of brilliant light. With twenty thousand visitors 
and a population of four hundred thousand on the streets, one 
may imagine the press. 

There was nothing particular to be seen on Monday. On 


Tuesday was the parade of the " Royal Troops " and the un- 
veiling of the Armistead Monument on Eutaw Plaee. On 
Wednesday was the procession of the tradesmen and societies, an 
amusing spectacle but not so interesting as the review. Thurs- 
day night was the grand climax of all — the "Royal Pageant" 
which proceeded in state from Druid Hill Park to the Acad- 
emy of Music, where a ball closed the entertainment. 

We young people enjoyed the Oriole very much, but we heard 
most of our elders condemn it as a miserable imitation of Mardi 
Gras and a mere advertisement gotten up by politicians and 
merchants. However, these opinions did not prevent even the 
older people from thoroughly liking Baltimore; and we would 
go there again to-morrow if we could. 


We are three little squirrels. At first we lived in a nice, warm 
hollow with our father and mother. We used to run up and 
down the rough bark of our old oak tree and we would chase 
each' other and chatter in the branches. Our hollow was lined 
with moss and leaves, and we had some nice, sweet beechnuts, 
and hickory nuts, and grains of corn buried under the tree. We 
slept all the winter in our warm hollow, but on warm days we 
used to wake up and crack nuts between our sharp little teeth, 
and play about and scold. My brother's name was Longtail, 
my sister's name was Frisky, and my name was Brighteyes. 

One day some men came and cut the tree down, in the Fall of 
the year, while our father and mother were off gathering nuts. 
We were all in the hollow, and when we heard the first strokes 
of the axe we were so frightened that we huddled down in the 
farthest corner of the hollow, as close together as we could get, 
and did not dare to peep out. Our little hearts beat very fast, 
and at every stroke of the axe we would start and then nestle 


closer together. When the tree fell, our bed was so soft that we 
were not hurt, though we were dreadfully frightened. Our old 
oak tree was then cut up and carried to a wood-pile. We lay 
perfectly still, and at last we fell asleep, but we were waked by 
hearing voices, and being taken out of our warm bed by two 
little children, who carried us into their house, and, after showing 
us around till we were almost dead with fright, put us into a 
wooden box and covered us over with a board. Then they tried 
to feed us, but we were too much frightened to eat. That night, 
as we lay trembling with fear in one corner of our box, we heard 
a scratching noise, and we thought that it was a cat trying to get 
off the board and eat us up. We crouched closer together, and 
our breath came and went in quick succession. At last a light 
shone through the board on the top of the box. It was the 
moonlight. Our father and mother had found where we were 
and had come to gnaw us out. We all climbed joyfully through 
the hole and ran up a big tree near the house. We spent that 
night lying flat along the branches of the tree, but the next 
morning we found a nice hollow in a tree right by the nursery 
window. The little children give us apples and nuts and other 
things that squirrels love. But we will never let them get their 
hands upon us again. 


Je n' ai pas une idee bien definie des premieres annees de ma vie, mais il 
me reste dans la memoire un souvenir obscur d' un doux bonheur dont nous 
jouissions, moi, mes sceurs, et mes freres. Je derneurais a Ste. Augustine, 
cette ancienne ville inte>essante, ou mon pere etait ministre de 1' Eglise Epis- 
copale. Justement en face de la cure etait un grand pare, bien beau avec des 
chenes £norrnes, presqu' entierement couverts de mousse grise qui donnait a 
tout un air venerable. II nous faisait grand plaisir de passer les journees a 
l'ombre de ces arbres, quelquefois jouant avec nos poupees, quelquefois lisant 
un de nos livres d' enfant, ou £tudiant nos lecons. Mais, pour dire la verity, 
je craignais toujours voir un serpent ou un lezard, dans 1' epais gazon vert, et 
j 'avais grand peur de ces animaux. De cette maniere, les journees s' £coul- 
aient gaiement. 

De V autre cote du pare est la Cathedrale, et bien pres, le grand hotel 


toujours eneombre" de visiteurs voyageant pendant 1' hiver. Je me rappelle 
aussi les casernes; mais ce n' est pas nn souvenir bien agreable, car je n' aimaifi 
pas voir les canons menacants et les soldats avec leurs fusils. La situation de 
la ville est ravissante et avait pour moi un bien vif attrait. Ste. Augustine 
est situe'e justement an bord de la mer, cette mer bleue que j' adore! Les 
plaisirs que 1' on pent trouver sur le rivage sont infinis, et chacun a un 
charme particulicr. Comme la mer est belle au clair de lune! quel spectacle 
plus ruagniiique que celui du soleil se couebant dans la mer? Cela m' amusait 
beaticoup de marcher pied-nus sur la plage, regardant les ondes monter de 
plus en plus baut. II y avait un etablissement de bains, ou j' apris a nager; 
nous allions toutes les apres-midis nous baigner. Mais il vint une tern pete 
violente qui detruisit l'etablissement ; alors nous allions nous baigner a maree 
inontante, ce que je preTerais beaucoup. 

Mes souvenirs de ce bean pays ou l'air est embaume par les orangers, et ou 
les brises de la mer apportent de la fraicheur a tout, ne font que me donner 
un plus vif desir de la visiter encore. Un des grands buts que j' envisage, 
e' est d' aller passer quelques mois en Florida, bien nominee la Terre des Fleurs. 


[see literary notices.] 

Let us now turn the leaves of the diary of little Angela, a 
child of twelve, an age when we are not chary of words. In 
the introduction, she says that life is a struggle; we must conquer 
or die. Ah, death had no terror for the little girl; from the 
very first page, she was ready to breathe her last. A secret 
voice had told her, " You will not live long!" Never mind, she 
would accept her fate, and prepare for suffering by writing every 
evening in her little blank-book the history of the day. And 
some day in May, in the early morning, when her last hour 
should come, she would have this secret confidant of her short 
life brought to her bed-side, and . . . She did not know 
exactly what she would do with it, but certainly every one pres- 
ent would weep floods of tears. Having thus given a solid basis 
to her determination, the little school-girl began her journal. 


Apeil 1st. — I was born in the island of Sardinia, at Sassari ; 
my mother was named Bebbia. I never knew her ; she died a 
few days after my birth. Every one tells me that she was very 
beautiful; that she had large black eyes and a small mouth. I 
have not her portrait, but they have showed me a picture that 
resembles her; they say, too, that I am like her, but how can 
that be since I am not beautiful ? . . . I still remember my 
grandmother, who was also beautiful, but who wept and tried to 
hide her tears when she took me in her arms, but I used to see 
a tear in her red eyes. She died, and I was alone in the world 
with Uncle Silvio, my father's brother. My father — where is 
my father? Why has he never come to embrace his daughter 
and give her strength to bear her life? A terrible mystery sur- 
rounds the life of the author of my being. No one has ever 
spoken to me of him — no one ever speaks to me of him — only 
grandmother used to say to me every evening before I went to 
bed, " Pray for your poor father, who is so unhappy !" Now 
that grandmother is dead, no one makes me pray for my father, 
but I never forget him in my prayers : 

"Lord, bless my father who is so unfortunate; his name is 
George Boni, and he is wandering to and fro about the world." 

My heart tells me that my father is not dead ; they have not 
told me yet, " Weep, thou art an orphan !" But if he is living, 
why does he not come? Why does he not write to me? I have 
tried to ask Uncle Silvio, but he will not let me ; perhaps he does 
not think me big enough ; but I will tell him it is a cruel thing 
to conceal a father's fate from his daughter, and I will make him 
tell me all. Study hour is over; we are going to supper now, 
then to bed. Till to-morrow. 

April 2d. — The day has passed without any important 
event. I will continue the history of my poor life, a simple 
story, but one which conceals a bitter grief. After grandmamma 
died, Uncle Silvio (who is a professor of agriculture) took me to 
Milan. We have relatives here ; I do not like my aunt, the 
countess, who is grandmamma's sister; she is a gushing woman 
who asks me cpuestions I don't know how to answer. She is very 


rich ; she has a magnificent palace, where all the ladies of Milan 
used to go to take tea, to play the piano, and sometimes to dance ; 
but for a long time no one has been there, because the countess 
is ill and they say she will die. My uncle, the count, is the son 
of the countess Veronique; he is a man who seldom laughs, but 
he is good; I like him; his wife is the countess Beatrice, my 
aunt Beatrice, who, however, will be called neither aunt nor 
countess ; I call her Bice; she is my best friend ; she laughs all 
the time because she is happy, and I — my soul is tortured! I 
believe that Bice knows something about my father, but perhaps 
they have told her not to speak of it to me. 

April 5th. — The countess is dead ; I am leaving boarding- 
school to go to Sardinia. O my father, it seems to me that I am 
going to meet you ; I will be sure to recognize you, though no 
one has spoken of you, because the heart does not deceive, and 
then I have your portrait. 

I was still a child when grandmamma showed me my father's 
picture, which she kept in a book. When grandmamma was 
dead, I opened the book and took the picture, which from that 
time has never left me. Here it is ; I have him before my eyes ; 
I look at him, and ask him the fatal secret which separates him 
from his daughter. He is a thin man, wears a moustache and 
whiskers, and has large eyes. He seems pale, but I am not sure 
of this, because time has discolored the photograph. 

At Sea, April 6th. — I am here between the sky and the 
water, but I still can see a strip of distant land; I hope that in 
a little while we will see no land at all. (Later). I forgot to 
say that the body of the countess is traveling with us ; she wished 
to be buried in Sardinia, and we are going to bury her. Some 
dolpins have passed ; they have a black snout, and throw streams 
of water into the air. I learned from a sailor that they are good 
fish that harm no one. The sun is going down aud I am hungry. 
I asked a sailor when we should no longer see land, and he told 
me we could see it all the way. I am sorry. I should have 
liked at least for one hour to see nothing but the sky and the 
water; I said so to Aunt Beatrice, who began to laugh, and said 


I wanted too much. Bice does not understand my feelings, she 
is different from other women, but she is so good, and laughs so 
heartily! I must not lay it up against her. 

April 8th. — We are at Sassari. Many people have been to 
see us, but he has not come. And yet I feel that he is near me. 
At Port- Forres a man in a cowl spoke to me. I did not under- 
stand what he said, because I had taken it into my head that it 
was my father. I saw afterwards that it was a man wasted with 
fever who asked me for alms. I hope to conquer my emotion 
and await the issue of events ; I am more quiet, more resigned. 
I like Sardinia; I like the Sardinians, ( too ; they do not take off 
their hats, they are rather haughty; however, they call me 
signoricca and tell me to my face that I am beautiful — but they 
mean that I appear strong and healthy. No one sees what 
passes in my heart ; no one knows how I suffer when I laugh ; 
no one knows that a worm is here gnawing. 

April 9th. — To-day Uncle Silvio returned from Muros in a 
very bad humor. What did he go to Muros for"? I asked him, 
and he did not answer. I entered unexpectedly the public par- 
lor of the inn when Uncle Silvio, my uncle the count, and Bice 
were there, and they were immediately silent. These mysteries 
vex me. Why does not my father come? " 

Angela continued daily to note in her diary what happened. 
She described the new house where the family was going to live, 
the pleasant, accursed valley, the excursions to Florinas, to 
Ploaghe, the frequent absences of Uncle Silvio, professor of 
agriculture, his gloomy temper; in short, she wrote everything 
she thought worth remembering, including the examination of 
her own feelings. When she was forced to confess that the day 
had been pleasant and that altogether she had been pretty gay, 
that Sardinia had opened to her an odd book where from page 
to page the scenes and pictures grew more and more peculiar; 
when she had written down all this she would make a row of 
little dots and ask, "Yet am I happy?" A terrible question to 
which the little girl was most often pleased to reply by another 
row of little dots. Under the date of April 10th, she w 7 rote in 
her secret diary : 


"A man has come and asked for uncle and disappeared; I 
placed myself at the window to see him go out, but he did not 
go out. Uncle seemed worried when he came back to the parlor. 
What is going to happen ? If it were he! (Later). That man 
is in the house; he must be shut up in Uncle Silvio's room, but 
I have not the courage to make sure. (Later). ' It is not he ; 
the pain begins again. Ah, me! how unhappy I am. . . ." 

It was not he indeed, but it was his brother-in-arms, the old 
shepherd, Su Mazzone (the Fox), who since "that affair" had 
remained in the island and defied civilization with his old musket. 
He had been taken ten times, but ten times he had eluded his 
captors. Su Mazzone was everywhere except in prison. They 
said he had a subtle poison concealed under the nail of the little 
finger of his left hand, and that he had only to suck it, in case 
of extreme peril, to escape the scaffold. Persons better informed 
affirmed that he always carried upon him a short pistol hung to 
his neck by the trigger. Some day or other, after having burned 
all his powder and stretched upon the ground a vast number of 
carabiniers, he would only have to cross his arms on his breast 
and raise his head quickly to appear charged with a new crime 
at the tribunal of God. But Su Mazzone was not a wicked man. 
He harmed no one, nor ever raised his hand but to defend him- 
self; moreover, in spite of his gray beard, he liked pretty girls, 
and if the gendarmes had left him in peace for a little while, far 
from becoming a monk, he would have led to the altar the most 
beautiful and the most foolish of them all — why the most fool- 
ish? — because it is not needful to be wise in order to marry a 
gray-beard, is it? In a word, a very amiable and accommodating 
bandit, who, besides, improvised madrigals in Sardinian patois. 
He had come to inform Professor Silvio of the retreat where 
George was concealed. Eight days after, the whole family, 
including Angela, who did not know where they were taking 
her, were on their way. 

[to be concluded.] 


It was with no little pleasure that we learned, early in the 
Spring, that Gilbert and Sullivan's last operetta, " The Sorcerer," 
was to be given in May, by amateur actors. Here was some- 
thing to look forward to — a pleasant break in the monotonous 
routine of school-life; and we all gave ourselves to harder study 
than ever in order to make the dull days pass more quickly. 
The operetta was anticipated with additional interest, as many 
of us had seen " H. M. S. Pinafore" given by the same company 
with charming effect. 

At length the long-looked-for day arrived, but alas, the sky 
was clouded over, and throughout the morning there was a driz- 
zling rain. Our hearts were filled with many misgivings and 
forebodings that we should not be able to go. Then the idea of 
getting a 'bus to take us down suggested itself, and we were 
somewhat comforted. However, after dinner we caught occa- 
sional glimpses of the sun through the clouds, and in the evening 
he set clear and bright. Joyfully we ran up-stairs to don our 

Seats had been reserved for us in Tucker Hall, where we had 
a full view of the stage and actors. Our anticipations were 
realized to the fullest extent, for the whole performance was 
remarkably well carried out, and the operetta is a very pretty 
and interesting one. The lovely fiancee quite won our hearts 
by her sweet voice and charming acting: and our indigna- 
tion was aroused by the well-feigned coolness with which 
Alexis received her earnest protestations of affection. When 
the portly Sir Marmaduke appeared, and we recognized in him 
our old friend, Sir Joseph Porter, the burst of applause was 
loud : every one knew then that that character would be well- 
sustained. And in the last scene, one could not help feeling a 
shade of sorrow for poor "John Wellington Wells, the dealer in 


magic and spells," when all were paired in happy couples, and 
lie was forced to make a flaming retreat to the lower regions. 
But lie seemed quite content, and we hear he lit his cigar at the 
Devil's fire. 

The hall was crowded with an attentive audience, who showed 
their appreciation of the charms of Aline, Lady Sangazure, 
Constance, and Mrs. Partlett, by showering upon them hand- 
some bouquets. The operetta was repeated two weeks later, and 
the object for which it was given fully attained. It is said that 
they cleared over five hundred dollars. We congratulate our 
city friends upon their success, and hope that this will not be 
their last operatic entertainment. 

During this Spring we have had the ?>ri vile^e of being 
present at an unusually large number of services conducted by 
the Bishop. Besides the Confirmation services held in Christ 
Church, the Church of the Good Shepherd, and in our own 
Chapel, some of us were able to attend, on Whitsunday morn- 
ing, the services at St. Augustine's (colored) Church. These were 
particularly interesting and impressive; the Rite of Confirma- 
tion was administered to nine candidates, and three graduates of 
the Normal School were ordained Deacons. Few of us had ever 
been present at the administration of the two offices in the same 
service. The church was well filled, and it did one's heart good 
to see the interest and vigor with which the congregation took 
part in the prayers and praises. The singing was particularly 
good. Those persons who formed the choir were merely leaders, 
for the whole congregation sang with one voice. Their organist 
has long been a member of the church, and is a woman very 
capable of filling her position. She was educated at the Normal 
School, and has uow for several years belonged to its corps of 
teachers. There were in the chancel, besides the Bishop, the 
Rev. Dr. Hubbard, and the Rector of St. Augustine's, three 
Deacons, previously ordained in this church; all assisted in the 
reading of the service. As a Confirmation hymn, the 128th of 
the hymnal was sung. In his sermon, the Bishop addressed the 

23.6 ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 

candidates for ordination, setting before them the duties to which 
their lives must henceforth be devoted. He called their atten- 
tion to the thousands of their own people, in this very State, 
who are utterly ignorant of the Word of God, and many of 
whom, on account of their ignorance of the doctrines of the 
Church, have formed violent prejudices against it. It was the 
part and privilege of those then to be ordained, to go out among 
the people of their race, dispel these prejudices, and bring the 
unenlightened souls to a knowledge of the truth. And they 
could not do this without the continual aid of the Holy Spirit, 
which had, on this day, descended on the Apostles, to be with 
them "alway, even unto the end of the world." 

The earnest address of the Bishop was listened to with careful 
attention, and his fatherly words of counsel and comfort fell on 
hearts ready and eager to receive them. After the Ordination 
service, the Holy Communion was celebrated, of which as many 
as sixty partook. 

The services of this day were an evidence of the work that 
has been going on at St. Augustine's School, and an earnest of 
what, through God's help, it will yet accomplish. 

Brick for the rebuilding of the school have been ordered, and 
soon the work of erection will be well under way. A large 
four-story house will be raised at a cost of $10,000; moreover, 
there is in the hands of the Trustees a sum of about $5,000 to 
be devoted to the building of a chapel. They propose, also, as 
has been already stated, erecting a building for theological pur- 

The services in our Chapel on the evening of Whitsunday 
were peculiarly sweet and solemn. Four of our number knelt by 
the rose-wreathed font to be made soldiers of Christ, and heirs of 
the everlasting Kingdom. A more fitting day could not have 
been chosen for the beautiful service, and out-of-doors everything 
was in keeping with the holy festival. The gardens seemed to 
have laid aside their bright-colored flowers; everywhere were 
white roses, white honeysuckle, white deutzia and lilies. With 


these and glistening oak-leaves, we dressed the altar, the win- 
dows, and the robing-room and organ screens, while on the 
credence bracket glowed scarlet geraniums. Our processional 
was the glorious hymn, "The Church's One Foundation," and 
as we sang the last verse, it seemed as if the spirits of our loved 
and absent ones were present with us. As one of our compan- 
ions went forward to the font, with her young witnesses, our 
own class-mates, at her side, the thought that we already belonged 
to the Fold, and had engaged ourselves to fight under Christ's 
banner, was brought more forcibly to our minds than ever before. 
The witnesses for the other candidates were some of our loved 
and loving teachers. The hymn was the 216th, sung to the 
well-known old tune. As the last tones of the organ died away, 
a little mocking-bird, perched on the oak at the open chapel- 
door, caught the strain and repeated it with thrilling perfection. 
It was like a heavenly echo. 

A week later, on Trinity Sunday, the Bishop visited us and 
confirmed a class of nine. 

We have heard a Senator lecture. Not that we are unfa- 
miliar with Senators and other dignitaries. Is not Essie Ransom's 
father a Senator, and Annie Philips's a Judge? Do they not 
laugh and joke witli us girls, and give us a ride or a dinner at 
the hotel when they come to St. Mary's, to say nothing of candy 
and other nice things"? But these are home-folks, and they have 
no world-renowned nicknames, and we have never heard them 
lecture. So when we were told that "Sun-set Cox" was coming 
(we trust he will pardon the familiar title) we straightened up 
in our seats, and resolyed to be perfectly self-possessed, and to do 
credit, if we could, to our Alma Mater. But not a word did he 
say to us. He merely looked over our heads at the walls of the 
school-room, glanced at the pictures in the parlor, went over to 
the Chapel, returned and drove away, leaving, however, an invi- 
tation to his lecture in the evening. His subject was "The 
Poetry of Mechanism;" he spoke eloquently and well, and we 
were amply repaid for the long walk to the lecture-hall. 


May 29th, 1883, is a memorable date to more than one small 
child who then made her debut before a Raleigh audience. We 
find, by referring to the Muse of last June, that we were then 
enraptured with the entertainment given by our kindergarten and 
Preps. Well, it was good; the playing was good; so was the 
singing; so was the recitation. But the little folks are one year 
older, and their work on May 29th was a very long year better. 
The department had grown so large by Xmas that it became 
necessary to divide the calisthenic classes; since when the Prep. 
B's have made rapid progress, and the little kinder have become 
more perfect in their simple free-hand exercises. Under their 
accomplished teacher, Miss M. Florence Slater, who received her 
finishing lessons from Mr. Avon C. Burnham, America's finest 
gymnast, they have become most graceful and expert. It is 
impossible to mention all their varied exercises and attitudes; 
the most beautiful were the wand-figures given by the kinder- 
gartners, in groups of four; the postures, double and single, of 
the Prep. B's, and the exquisite wave-movement, in which, with 
dumb-bells in position, the whole class sank sideways to the 
floor and rose, again and again, with a beautiful rythmic motion. 
In all the calisthenics, the time was perfect, and the changes 
energetically and promptly made. 

In singing, the children have improved greatly. Their songs 
were written by Schumann, Peinecke, and Gounod; the shading 
was very pretty, and the last chorus, Gounod's " The Ant and 
the Grasshopper," was wonderfully done. It was hard to believe 
that children were singing. . Duets, quartettes and solos in instru- 
mental music varied the programme, and in these the Prep. A's 
assisted. In all the other exercises, but one child had reached 
the age of twelve. Several of the players had taken lessons 
but one year, yet their little fingers made very sweet music, for 
they attempted nothing beyond their powers. But we must 
make special mention of the recitations by George Gales, Min- 
nie Tucker and Lucy Hawkins. The six-year-old orator was 
heard clearly by every member of the crowded audience. His 
piece was of his own selection and learning, and he declaimed it 



with all the earnestness of a sage. Minnie Tucker's little poem 
was clearly and sweetly recited, and her gestures very gracefully 
made. Of Lucy Hawkins's piece a gentleman remarked, "It is 
just perfect; I cannot see how it could be improved." The fol- 
lowing is the whole programme: 


FA.R r r FIRST. 

1. Chokus — Sir Spring's Concert, 

Primary and Preparatory Classes. 

2. Recitation — Hohenlinden, 

George M. Gales. 

3. Quartette— Les Quatre Amies, 

O. Winder, G. Winder, E. Marshall, B. Tucker. 

4. Calisthenics. 

Primary Classes. 

5. PlANO Solo — Drooping Violets, 

Octavia B. Winder. 






6. Chorus— The Little Dustman, - 

Primary and Preparatory Classes. 

7. Recitation — A Plea for the Buys, - 

J. Marshall, S. Gales, G. Snow, F. Reid. J. West, C. Rich, 
S. Hinsdale, G. Gales, C. Skinner. 

8. Duet — Opus 117, - - - - - - Slreabbog 

Mary Hardin and Mary Snow. 

9. Dumb-bell Exercises, 

Preparatory I lass B. 

10. Recitation— The Silver Bird's-nest, - - II.F.c 

Minnie Tucker. 

11. Piano Solo — Une Nuit Etoilee, - - - S.Smith 

Susie C. Dabney. 


1. Chorus— Spinning-Song, - Reinecke 

Primary and Preparatory (lasses. 

2. Quartette— Opus 43, No. 2, .... Alberti 

H. McVea, M. Marshall, S. Dabney, M. Grissom. 

3. Recitation— The Water Wagtail's Soliloquy, - - J.Montgomery 

Preparatory Class B. 


4. Piano Solo— The Czar and the Carpenter, Arranged by F. Beyer 

Helen F. McVea. 

5. Postures, 

Preparatory Class B. 

6. Chorus— Blue-bell's Ball, - Beinecke 

7. Recitation— The Fairy's Eescue, - Anon 

Lucy Hawkins. 

8. Comedie— La Fete de Ma Tante, 

M. Snow, M. Hinsdale, J. Saunders, L. Carter, M. Haywood, 
E. McVea and J. Marshall. 

9. Chorus — The Ant and the Grasshopper, , - - Gounod 

Primary and Preparatory Classes. 

10. Recitation— Good-night, - Mrs. Clifford 

Preparatory Class B. 

1 1 r „ niJTTC / a. Morning Hymn, \ D . . 

11. Chorus, u Evening Hymn ; \ - Beinecke 

Surely never were Commencement Exercises carried to a 
successful conclusion under more adverse circumstances. We 
were persecuted by a most unDoetic but disabling disease, viz. : 
the mumps. Appearing early in the Spring, it attacked one 
and another unimportant Junior, who laughed in the midst of 
her pain at her comical appearance. But two weeks before the 
all-important Commencement one of our best players began to 
complain, then an elocutionist was taken ; and finally, on the 
day before the Concert, our first soprano came to school unable 
to make a single note. But now came the reward of their faith- 
ful work throughout the year. Though unable to practice for 
many days before the Concert, the first gave most exquisitely 
Raff's delicate Fabliau; the recitation was given without a fault; 
and while we were obliged to forego Alice ITagood's lovely 
songs, she was able to give, with absolute perfection, her difficult 
recitations. But we are going too fast. The first entertainment 
of the week was the Soiree Dramatique given on Monday night, 
when, after a brilliant quartette, came a scene from Athalie. 
As always at St. Mary's, the French was beautifully pronounced, 
and the scene, though quiet, was well acted, Emmie Smedes 
taking the title role. A pi#no solo of considerable difficulty 

ST. MARV's MUSE. 241 

followed, and was well played by Bettie Joyner. The music 
this evening was almost wholly from the Junior department, and 
was highly creditable to the players and their teachers. Then 
followed the German play, the whole of the garden scene in 
Maria Stuart. We have had charming German plays before, 
from The Maid of Orleans, from Wallenstein, from various 
comedies, but we have never had anything better than this. We 
knew that Alice Hagood was our best elocutionist, and that she 
had had 100 on all her reports of late, both in German and in 
Elocution, but we did not fully realize what 100 meant until we 
saw her as the unfortunate queen on Monday night. Belle 
Graves, as Queen Elizabeth, spoke like a German, and Mittie 
Dowd excelled herself. The daily papers have been so over- 
whelming in their commendation that we can say neither less 
nor more than this. The audience was large and enthusiastic 
and were surprised when they found that this part of the enter- 
tainment was over. They then adjourned to the studios, where 
the crush was so great that we retired, content with viewing 
their attractions by daylight. We take comfort in the report 
that next year our art exhibition will be given in a gallery 
worthy of its contents, and our new Art-building will be a joy 

Tuesday evening, we accepted the invitatiou from Peace 
Institute and attended its Concert in Tucker Hall. The kindness 
of our friends had secured us excellent seats, and in spite of the 
very warm weather and crowded hall, we enjoyed thoroughly 
the beautiful execution of Miss Faison and several other vouno; 
ladies, and Miss Minnie Helper's exquisitely trained voice. Her 
trills were like those of a bird. We are sorry that we have no 
programme before u^, for we distinctly remember our pleasure 
in hearing the first sino-er, and other vouno ladies whose names 
have, in our present hurry, escaped our memories. With many 
thanks for the graceful attention, we wish the Peace Institute all 
happiness and success 


242 ST. MARY' '8 M USE. 

Our anxieties came to an end on Wednesday morning, when 
we found all our girls able to speak and most of them to sing. 
All of the Seniors had stood their examinations (those in Trig- 
onometry and Higher Algebra having been, this year, from 
Cornell University), and, without a care, we wandered through 
the grove, or talked about the summer, or attended the examina- 
tions of our }< T ounger sisters, and put all the hard questions we 
could think of. But they answered well. In the afternoon we 
gathered flowers and dressed the windows, etc., and otherwise 
prepared for our Concert. Unfortunately for our report, we all 
participated in the exercises. We can only refer our readers to 
the daily papers and to the programme given on another page. 
Our dear Bishop was with us all the evening, and gave us each 
a loving commendation. When he saw a fault, he said nothing 
of it. But we have been told that as a whole the Concert of 
this year fell behind none of its predecessors, and in some few 
particulars, it has surpassed them. 

On Thursday morning came the usual reading of essays, j 
introduced by Mary Battle's graceful salutatory. As there were 
but two graduates, two other essays from the Senior Class were 
read by their respective authors, all of which are published in 
this issue. Very beautiful music varied the entertainment, and 
a chorus, "The Morning Invitation," was pronounced by the 
audience a gem. Heavy showers of rain during these exercises 
had made it doubtful whether we could go in procession to the 
Chapel; but the clouds rolled away just in time, and the long 
line, longer than ever before, passed into the sacred building 
around which the dearest memories of St. Mary's cliuiz;. There, 
after appropriate collects and the glorious anthem, "I waited for 
the Lord," our Rector made a few remarks concerning the work 
of the session, read the Roll of Honor, and gave the two 
graduates their diplomas with his blessing. 

The Bishop then addressed the graduates, commending the 
evidences of their work that he had seen, and irivino; them God 
speed. Then, turning to the other classes, he spoke of the thor- 
oughness and earnestness that characterized the school. There 


Recitation — 

a. The Fisherman's Summons, - Anon 

b. The Sands o' Dee, • Kingsley 

Miss Alice M. Hagood. 

Vocal Solo — A Basket of Loves, - Marzials 

Miss Mary Stuart. Solo — Dinorah, Caprice de Concert, - R. Hoffman 

Mi<s Annie B. Philip-. 

Recitation — Miss Maloney on the Chinese, - - Mrs. Dodge 

Miss Emilie W. McVea. 
Vocal Solo — Scheiden nnd Leiden, - Truhn 

Miss Alice M. Hagood. 

Spanish Dances — Opus 12, arr. by Wolff) - Moszkowski 

Misses Mathewson, Stuart, McVea and Shober. 

C'HORl'.s — Bv Babylon's Wave. - - - Gounod 


Piano Solo — Fleurs de Boheme, - Krausse 

Miss Martha A. Dowd. 

Salutatory, and Essay — Temples. 

Miss Mary L. Battle. 

Piano Solo — Ballade II, - - - Chopin 

Miss Kate L. Sutton. 

Essay — Hebrew Poetry. 

Miss Annie H. Philips. 

CHORUS — Morning Invitation, ----- Veazie 

Essay — The Hindoo anil Scandinavian Mythologies. 

Mis-. Emilie VV. McVea. 

Makche Militaire, ... . J. Raff 

Miss Graves and Dr. Kiirsteiner. 

Essay — The Elements of Modem Civilization — ami Valedictory. 

Miss Kate I.. Sutton. 

Slavic Dances, ------- Dvorak 

Misses Stone, Mathewson, Staton and Lucas. 




Anthem— I Waited for the Lord, .... Mendelssohn 




Hymn 497, ------- Dudley Buck 




Katharine L. Sutton. 

Mary L. Battle. 


According to custom, Mr. Sraedes read, last Sunday, a report 
of the alms given by the School during the year. These amount 
to $480.85, of which $65.00 went to the Raleigh poor; $106.80, 
part of which was earned by the children at their Christmas 
Operetta, to St. John's Hospital; $31.25 to the Chapel carpet; 
$16.00 to the church at Tarboro, built by the efforts of an old 
pupil of St. Mary's; $30.00 to the Bishop's salary; $20.00 to 
Diocesan Missions; $10.00 to Bishop Morris of Oregon; $40.00 
for the Aldert Smedes Scholarship in China; and $31.80 for 
an altar presented to the little church in Hendersonville, in 
memory of Mariana Alston. 


These offerings come from three sources — the Communion 
alms, the society of the School, and the mite-boxes of the differ- 
ent Sunday-classes. Mr. Smedes spoke with feeling of the 
peculiar trials of the year, and the courage and earnestness with 
which the girls had taken up their work again and carried it to 
a close; and, referring to the aid we had been able to give to 
the little church at Tarboro, he assured us all that in any good 
work we might begin in the years to come, we might rely upon 
the prayers, and as far as possible, the material aid of our Alma 


In the early years of this centurv, Mme. de Stael made 
known to her countrymen the existence of a world of poetry, 
sensibility, critical accumen, and refined scholarship among the 
"barbarous" people beyond the river Rhine, at whom Voltaire 
had scoffed, and his followers ignorantly jeered. She translated, 
though inadequately, the works of Lessing and Richter, and 
introduced a new branch of literary labor. Later, Carlyle made 
his first gains by acquainting England with Goethe, Tieck, 
Fouque, Novalis, and other German writers of the romantic 
school. During the last ten years, several ladies of our own 
country have won a well-earned popularity by adding to our 
light literature the charming tales of modern German novelists. 
So many translators are now in the field that a fear arises lest it 
will soon be exhausted and "Othello's occupation gone." It is, 
therefore, a pleasure to know that a country hitherto unexplored 
is about to yield a golden harvest. "I Promessi Sposi," the 
novel that delighted our mothers, will no longer be Italy's sole 
representative on the shelves of our circulating libraries. A new 
author, Signor Salvatore Farina, has received marked commenda- 
tion in Europe, and it will not be long before his works appear in 
English. His writings are said to betoken careful study, a 


dainty imagination, a keen sensibility, and a refined taste that 
delights to paint scenes of innocence, and shuns the criminal and 
revolting. We give in this number the translation of an episode 
in his last romance, "Love has a hundred eyes," taken from the 
French version of M. Marc-Monnier, from whom also we have 
gained our knowledge of the author. It opens with the diary 
of a little boarding-school miss, whose father is hiding from 
justice, and whose romantic guesses and convictions, stilted 
expressions and sudden plunges into the commonplace, are mar- 
vellously natural. 

Our Foreign Correspondent is no more, and, in conse- 
quence, the Muse is languishing. In the early Spring, even 
amid the rejoicing at the approaching home-coming of our wan- 
derer, we foresaw the time when there would be a sad vacancy 
in the Muse, when no chatty letters from abroad would greet 
us. But only when school draws to a close, and the June issue 
is due, do we fully realize our loss. Will no one help us? Is 
it possible that none of the Alumna? contemplate a sea-voyage? 
June is a very nice mouth for crossing the ocean, and surely any 
one would be rewarded for the undertaking by becoming our 
new "Foreign Correspondent." We are all anxious to hear 
of Italy, and some one suggests that Greece would be a pleasant 
place of abode, and a fruitful subject for the pen of our future 
authoress. Our appeal will surely not be in vain. 

Meanwhile our dear "Foreign Correspondent" has come home, 
bringing her sheaves with her; i. e., the well-earned diploma 
won by two years hard work in Germay. Jadassohn, Reinecke, 
Paul, and Zwintscher, than whose names none are higher in the 
musical world, have combined to attest the honorable rank 
attained, "durch hervorragenden Fleisz und schones Talent," by 
our own girl graduate of three summers ago. Having received 
the highest honors in her Academic course, and graduated in 
our School of Music, she went to the old world to receive, at 
fountain-head, the best instruction of our time. Our kind friends 
have, in these pages, followed her from Dresden to Berlin, where 
she remained six months, not only at the conservatory, but under 


the personal instruction of Theodor Kullak; and thence to Leip- 
zig, where, for the last eighteen months, she has been a favored 
pupil of the above-named masters. We welcome her lovingly 
to her home, and to the number of those dear teachers whom we 
delight to honor, and whom we so reluctantly leave. Her faithful 
work and brilliant success are an earnest of the gain to St. Mary's, 
in securing her as first assistant in the Musical Department. 
We wish her a happy summer • m\ many happy years. 



The Catalogue of Drawing and Painting this year gives two 
hundred and fifty numbers, or one hundred and nine more than 
that of last year. This increase is due partly to the large num- 
ber of scholars, partly to their greater rapidity of execution. 
The enthusiastic artist in charge of the department has won her 
pupils to her opinion, that a thorough knowledge of form neces- 
sarily underlies successful painting; and that drawing is not 
only a means to an end, but an end in itself. She takes great 
pride in the 110 drawings in crayon, pencil and charcoal from 
casts, objects, and still-life. A very few copies of flat- models are 
also exhibited. Among the last, two studies of Lombard)* Pop- 
lars, by Misses Bitting and Osborne respectively, are noticeably 
good. A portrait in crayon, enlarged from a small photograph, 
is very well worthy of mention. It is the work of Miss Roberta 
Best, of Washington, D. C. We have not time to describe the 
various crayons of bric-a-brac, flowers, everything that can be 
pressed into service. All are tastefully grouped and very well 
done; most of those tacked carelessly near the ceiling seeming 
to us worthy of a frame and a place of honor in the homes of 
their owners. A peculiar study in white crayon on a black 
background is specially tine. Miss Pittman's "Callas," Miss 
Best's "Jonquils," and Miss Mang urn's studies from casts, 
deserve much praise. 


Miss Easdale Shaw, of Rockingham, N. C, is the chief artist 
in water-colors; her panels, tambourines, &c. make a very cred- 
itable display, of which we particularly admire her "Alpine 
Flowers" and "August," 

Of the seventy-nine pieces of oil-painting, Miss Fanny D. 
Sharp, of Harrellsville, N. C, claims fourteen. Her "Moon- 
light on the Bay" would do credit to a much older artist. Miss 
Sharp is the senior pupil in g U studio, having been there for 
six years. She has distinguish herself during the past year by 
her excellent independent work. Miss Hicks, of Faison's, N. 
C, has made the most beautiful studies from nature; Miss Bit- 
ting, of Winston, and Miss Rose, of Smithfield, coming next in 
order of merit. Miss Wicks, of Asheville, exhibits some excel- 
lent copies of flat-models. 

Among the most beautiful specimens of decorative art are 
large French-plate mirrors with painted frames. Miss Lula 
Tucker, of Raleigh, Miss Sharp, Miss Maud Cunningham and 
Miss Mary Osborne exhibit mirrors of nearly equal beauty, 
though widely different design. 

In mineral painting, the beautiful china of Miss Sallie Carter 
and Miss Lula Tucker, of Raleigh, and Miss Hagood, of Gal- 
veston, Texas, is greatly admired. This branch of art is 
becoming more and more popular, and the specimens exhibited 
by the pupils grow in delicacy of finish. It is to be regretted 
that, owing to the carelessness of a New York firm, some of the 
most beautiful china was not fired in time for exhibition. 

Taken as a whole, the exhibit of this year is an advance upon 
any that has preceded it. The insufficiency of room, both for 
work and exhibition, has long been felt, and a new art-building 
is to be put up during the summer. Every modern convenience 
and appliance for art has been considered, with the intention of 
securing the best for the new studio; and we look forward with 
delight to the beautiful accommodations and increased facilities 
for our work. 


Vol. VI. Raleigh, X. C, November, 1883. Xo. 1. 


One day, as we were busy with our sewing, a friend of ours 
called, who had just returned from Cape May. A paper on the 
table caught her eye, and she picked it up, exclaiming, " Why, 
here is a copy of the Cape May Daily Wave; the very one I 
sent you, too. Cape May is such a delightful place. You ought 
to go there; the summer is not half over yet." 

»" Perhaps we shall go, if you can recommend a good hotel." 
" Half a dozen, if you like. Now, if you love fashion, the 
Stockton is the place for you. There you will ever find the 
gayest of the gay, all flare and feather, though the ladies do 
not wear silks and diamonds to breakfast nor put on six dresses 
a day until they have run through their wardrobes, as they do 
at Saratoga. But you must not be surprised if, on a moonlight 
night, you see every lady with a red or blue silk parasol, lace- 
edged, of course, because moonlight, they say, tans worse than 
sunlight. Or should you go down street during the day, don't 
wonder if each belle you meet is without hat, veil, or gloves, her 
only protection being a pair of blue eye-glasses and the darling 
parasol. The Stockton has a dancing pavilion, to which the 
military band and company often come. I went to a hop there 
once, but I will not bore you with a description of it. The glit- 
ter of fashionable attire is without doubt very attractive, but 
when it comes to a fashionable ball, then who, for once, does not 
tire of conventionalities and long for a simple, hearty country 
dance, less fashionable perhaps, but how much more enjoyable ! 
" What is the next best hotel, you say? Well, Congress Hall, 
I believe; but, my! it costs so much to go there! The waiters 

2 ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 

all wear red-satin vests, and we have to pay for those vests, you 
know. However, between Congress Hall and Denizot's Piers 
you will have the best view of the bathers that is to be had any- 
where on the island. Nearly everybody comes here to bathe, 
partly to see the concourse of people and partly on account of 
the life-boat which the hotel always keeps in readiness. I have 
forgotten the exact number of life-boats on the coast, but Cape 
May is said to be the safest sea-bathing resort in the United 

"I seethe New Columbia here advertising 'tower-rooms'; 
what are they ?" 

" Tower-rooms ? They are the most delightful sleeping-apart- 
ments you ever saw, built high up in a tower, with a perpetual 
breeze, cool, soft, delicious." 

"How splendid ! They are very expensive, are they not ?" 

" To be sure they are, but none the less worth it, ' for a' that.' 
I think you would probably like the accommodations of the 
Lafayette almost as well as the tower-rooms of the New Colum- 
bia. The former is so near the sea-shore that the spray is often 
felt in its dining-room. And the sumptuous fare ! Do you like 
fish ?" 

" Yes, indeed !" 

" Then you will find it hard to think of a better fish than the 
Cape May ' goody/ nor will you disdain the ' weak-fish ' and the 
' blue-fish ' when once you have tried them." 

" Is the Windsor a nice hotel ?" 

"The Windsor? Why, that is the clergyman's hotel ! All 
the bishops, priests, and preachers go there, so they say." 

" And the American, Avhat of that?" 

" I really don't know anything of the American ; but there is 
the New Atlantic, named after the Old Atlantic, which is sup- 
posed to have been the first hotel at Cape May — au honor dearly 
bought. In 1804 the Old Atlantic stood at a distance of three 
hundred and thirty-four feet from the edge of the beach, and by 
1829 the sea had washed away the bank up to the house. The 
hotel was, in consequence, moved back and its name soon after- 
ward changed to Hughes' House. The ocean continued to 


encroach rapidly on the laud until 1850, when its way was 
obstructed by piles and walls. Scarcely, however, was the hotel 
safe from the sea and called the Atlantic once more, than it was 
burned down, and rebuilt only to be again destroyed. The New 
Atlantic has been erected since the last fire, in 1878. 

"Oh ! you ought to have seen the sword-fish that was caught 
at Cape May this summer! It was twenty feet and a half long, 
and its sword was between three and four feet in length, with 
sharp teeth projecting on each side." 

" Why, that was a saw-fish, not a sword-fish!" 

" They called it a sword-fish there. They caught some sharks, 
too, one of them quite large." 

" Are there no places for excursions at Cape May *?" 

"Certainly, there are several. About two miles and a half 
from the city is Cape May Point, a flourishing little village with 
three large hotels, a light-house, and a life-saving station. Then 
there is Sewell's Point, four miles away, where the yachts go to 
tish and crab in the creek which forms Cape Island. This little 
inlet is deep, yet so narrow in some parts that at a distance you 
see no water at all, and the sloops and schooners look as if they 
were on dry land, like carriages on a road. Xear Sewell's Point 
are the dangerous Five-Fathom Bank with its light-ship, and the 
famous Delaware Break-water with its light-house. Cape Hen- 
lopen's light is fixed, while Cape May's is a brilliant white flash 
every thirty seconds. 

" The drive to Schellenger's Landing is a favorite, because 
across its bridge is the way that leads to Diamond Beach on 
Delaware Bay ; for no one likes to leave Cape May without a 
diamond for a souvenir. Some of these so-called diamonds are 
as bright and clear as the Rhine-stones. One old man we met 
said he had ' a string of diamonds and Floridy beans that 
nobody's $250 could buy.' We did not ask how he managed to 
'string' his diamonds." 

Our friend's description of Cape May interested us very much ; 
yet, when we went there, notwithstanding all her trouble to tell 
us of the hotels, we took a cottage. 



Ned and Jack sat down on the broad step, evidently waiting for 
something to happen. Dinner was what ought to come next ; but 
that dinner was coming, was not so certain. Ned's and Jack's 
feelings often told them it was dinner-time or tea-time, when 
neither dinner nor tea ever appeared. This morning there had 
been one crust which Ned had broken in two to share with Jack. 
But as it is not often that little boys, or even little dogs, have to go 
two days hungry, since even the sparrows, of whom there are so 
many in the world, are cared for and fed with crumbs, so some- 
thing happened just then. They were seen by a little boy at a 
window across the way. 

" O, mamma," cried he, " such a dog, with a cap, and a jacket, 
and a sword ! Do come and see, mamma, quick !" His mother was 
reading in a far-off corner of the room, but what will not moth- 
ers do for their little ones? So laying down her book, and get- 
ting up from the sofa, this mother came, and stood at the window 
with her arm around her boy. 

" Yes, dear, yes," said she, " but the poor little fellow looks so 
white and pinched. Shall we send him some dinner, Teddy?" 

" O ! you mean the boy. Yes, do send him some, mamma ; 
but let it be something the doggie can eat, too." 

It was not long before a tall man-servant was crossing the 
street with these little sparrow's-crumbs in a nice large plate. 
Ned's eyes glistened, and Jack barked his approval. 

Ned fed himself and Jack by turns, and Teddy watched them 
from the window. 

"O, how nice it must be," thought Teddy, " to wander around 
barefooted, whenever and wherever you like, and have a dear 
delightful dog for a companion. I wish I were he." 

In the meantime Ned talked to Jack as they ate. 

" You see that boy over yonder? He is just about as big as 
me. And see, ain't that a fine house he lives in, Jack? and 
what nice clothes he wears, and likely as not he has a dinner like 

ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 5 

this every day. I wish't I was him Jack, I do. My, wouldn't I 
have good times, and you should have a nice soft bed, Jack, and 
a good dinner every day, too." 

Wasn't this odd? Teddy in the window wishing he could be 
Ned, and Ned on the step wishing he were Teddy. 

Ned and Jack made the dinner last as long as possible, but the 
best of times must end, and the little bit was soon gone. Then 
Xed crossed the street with the plate and spoon. Teddy saw 
him coming with Jack at his heels. 

" O, mamma, that beautiful dog and the boy with the plate are 
coming over here. May I just go to the door to speak to them?" 

" You must not go out with your cold, but you may have them 
.brought into the house, if you like, dear. Take the keys and 
get some crackers and apples for the little boy." 

Just as Ned and Jack got to the stsp, the door was opened by 
a servant, who said, " Master Teddy wishes to speak to you." 
So into the fine house came Ned and Jack. Oh, how their eyes 
opened ! Never before had they been in such a house. Ned 
was almost afraid to step on the richly carpeted floors, and even 
Jack was wild with delight. 

" What a splendid dog !" said Teddy. " Is he your very own ?" 

" Yes, all my own," said Ned, " and he knows lots of tricks ! 
Why don't you have one?" continued Ned. " You couldn't get 
one as good as Jack, of course, but you could get one nearly as 
good, and you've got plenty of money." 

" I would," said Teddy, " but my father won't let me keep a 

" Won't — let — you — keep — a — dog? then I wouldn't " 

Ned did not say what he wouldn't, but he thought, " What would 
the world be without Jack !" 

" Well, we must be off, and Jack will do his tricks outside the 
window. Thank you for the dinner; we didn't have any yester- 
day and nothing but a crust this morning." 

"Not have any dinner!" exclaimed Teddy; "did you ever 
not have any before ?" 


" O, we often don't, but we are getting sort o' used to it now, for 
many is the night when me and Jack has laid down by the fence 
or road-side, hungry and sick. And then again the people are 
kind to us, and give us bread enough to last two or three days, 
and nice warm clothes to wear. But that dinner was a fine one, 
wasn't it, Jack? So come along, old fellow, and pay for it." 

Teddy was so surprised that he nearly forgot to give the apples 
and crackers. But he didn't quite, I am glad to say, and Ned 
went off with his pockets full. Jack did his tricks outside, to 
the great delight of Teddy, who stood at the window so long 
after Ned and Jack had made their last bow and gone, that his 
mother called him to her and asked what he was thinking of. 

" I was thinking," said Teddy, " how I had been wishing 
that I were that boy and that I had a dog like that. And I 
should like to have a dog, mamma. But do you know that boy 
goes sometimes two or three days without any dinner? and I 
don't wish to be him any more." 

" I should think not," said his mother. " You don't know 
what it would be to suffer as that little boy does. You should 
thank God for what he has given you, and never wish to be any 
one else, and pray God to bless that little boy and take care of 
him ; and make you always willing to help the poor people." 

•" Yes'm," said Teddy, thankful that he was not hungry Ned. 

But how amazed he would have been had he known that Ned 
had taken back his " I w isn't," and was feeling glad that he was 
not the rich boy who could have no Jack. 


Hellmuth College is situated about two miles from London, 
Canada. It is a beautiful place, one that would please the 
most fastidious eye. Although the building has stood for quite 
a number of years, no signs of age or decay can be seen. 


The grounds contain many acres, mostly overgrown by the 
greenest of gra«s. In front of the house stretches a large velvety 
lawn, in the center of which is one of the cutest summer houses 
I ever saw. From this spot you have a beautiful view of the 
surrounding country. Down below the hill runs the rapid 
Thames, separating Hellmuth grounds from the Bishop's prem- 
ises. You cross it on one of the quaintest of rustic bridges. 
Through the thick foliage of the trees you catch a glimpse of the 
brook, which flows through a ravine on the left of the college 
grounds. The banks of this ravine are fringed with trees and 
covered with tender green ferns, among which slumber the blue 
violets. Nearer you and just across the lawn stands the chapel ; 
we can get a glimpse of the interior through an open door-way. 
One of the many stained glass windows can be clearly seen. It 
represents the " Good Shepherd," holding in his arms a tender 
lamb. Within those sacred walls the light seems to be of a softer 
hue, and there is an air of quiet and peace. 

To come to our festival. 

We had looked forward to the 24th of May for weeks, I 
might safely say months. It being the Queen's birthday and 
the Canadian May-day, all books and lessons were to be laid 
aside, and young and old were to share the enjoyment. 

One day, just two weeks before the 24th, we were summoned 
to the "Lecture Room" to vote for the May Queen. When 
each had written the name of her favorite companion, the slips 
of paper were collected. Strange to say, they proved to be more 
in number than the girls in the room ; so the voting had to be 
repeited. When the votes were again counted, we all waited in 
breathless silence. Loud shouts of applause greeted the announce- 
ment of the chosen one, who was so great a favorite as to have a 
majority of thirty-two. 

The next two weeks flew rapidly by. Costumes had to be 
fashioned and characters chosen for the six Maids of Honor, who 
were selected by the Queen. Each one represented a different 
kind of peasant. There were three blondes and as many bru- 
nettes. Each dress was of a different color. I remember one 


which particularly took my fancy. The wearer was a dark bru- 
nette, and her dress was of some thin cream-colored fabric, which 
hung in graceful folds about her slender figure. Across her head 
and hanging gracefully over her shoulders was a red scarf, the 
exquisite color of which added new freshness to her already 
beautiful complexion. Her perfect neck and arms were adorned 
with many gold bangles that jingled like so many fairy bells 
when she walked. 

The sun rose bright and early on the 24th. Bustle and excite- 
ment filled the house all day until four, when the bell was rung, 
and we were gathered together and arranged two by two, in 
which order we were to march out to the lawn, where was the 
throne. This w T as a large chair covered with flowers. Ten- 
der green grass carpeted the lawn, and the atmosphere was 
laden with the balmy breath of spring. Around the summer- 
house were arranged seats for our expected guests. A piano had 
been taken out on the grass, and we marched to lively music. 

First came eighty girls, dressed in pure white adorned with 
bright ribbons. They stood so as to form two long rows before 
the throne. Next came a very small boy carrying the English 
flag. The Queen and her Maids of Honor came last. She was 
dressed all in white, from the ribbon that tied back her golden 
curls to the dainty slipper. From her shoulder flowed the Eng- 
lish colors, and in her hand she held a calla for a scepter. She 
walked under a canopy, which was covered with a rich profusion 
of flowers — heliotropes, roses, violets and fuchsias. It was held 
over her by four little girls, who walked with a proud step and 
felt very important. A five-year-old Cupid followed the Queen, 
carrying the crown, made of the choicest flowers, on an embroid- 
ered cushion. 

When the Queen was seated on her throne, with the kneeling 
Cupid at her feet, Bishop Hellmuth delivered an address. I 
seldom had seen a prettier sight; the young, happy faces, the 
budding trees, the green grass, the bright sunshine, the sparkling 
river ; but I missed the sweet song of the birds, who had not yet 
returned from the sunny South. Far off in the west the setting 
sun cast a golden light over all the sky. 


When the Bishop had finished, the Queen knelt and he placed 
the flower crown on her head. Never did a Queen of England 
rise with more stately grace nor address her subjects with more 
dignity, than did she. As we all knelt before her, she graciously 
gave us a smell of her scepter. Then we went to another part 
of the lawn, where was the May-pole. The long colored stream- 
ers were tossed about by the breeze, and the Maids of Honor had 
a race before catching them. They were caught at last, the music 
struck up, and the dance began. I cannot describe the incon- 
ceivable ways in which these streamers were wound around the 
staff, unwound, twisted, and untwisted. 

Daring the excitement no one had noticed how cool it was 
growing, but now the girls began to disappear, to return, wrapped 
in their winter cloaks, below which could be seen white dresses. 

When it was too cool to remain longer on the lawn, we went 
into the house, where we found what school-boys call " a spread." 
From the clatter of dishes and rattle of tongues, one would 
imagine there was hardly time to do justice to the delicious 
things before us. But it was marvellous how the dainties dis- 
appeared. From here some went to chase away the flying hours 
before bed-time by the merry dance. Others gathered in groups 
to talk over the pleasure of the day. 


Many years ago, so runs the storv, in the wild nights when, 
like hurrying ghosts, the breakers rush through the darkness to 
fling themselves with cries of despair upon the shore, and the 
Banshee voice of the wind shrieks round the laboring vessel, an 
old man w:is wont to lead up and down a low ridge of sand-hills 
fronting the ocean, a horse old like his master, and lame, with a 
lantern fastened to his head. Ships in distress, mistaking the 
wavering light for the revolving lamp of a light-house, were thus 
lured to their destruction, and the old wrecker divided the spoils 
with his associates. 


The "Nag's Head" light finally gave its name to part of the 
shifting sand-bank which skirts the coast of North Carolina, be- 
tween the Alberraarle Sound on one side and the ocean on the 

A chain of yellow sand-hills, dotted here and there with stunted 
live-oaks; a long, low hotel; a few weather-beaten houses scat- 
tered along the shore; glimpses between the hills of the dark 
blue line of the ocean ; such is the visitor's first glimpse of 
Nag's Head, as the boat steams up to the pier which extends 
from the hotel far out into the sound. This is now a busy 
thoroughfare, for the arrival of the steamer is an exciting event. 

At the house we find the usual throng of summer boarders, 
engaged in the summer boarder's usual occupations ; lounging or 
promenading on the piazzas ; here a party starting for a drive, 
there a crowd of excursionists landing from a sloop which has 
just stopped at the pier. We wander over the long, rambling 
hotel, and finally come out on one of the upper verandas. Across 
the sands appears a broad expanse of blue with fringes of white; 
a familiar, longed-for voice calls to us, and in obedience to the 
summons, we are soon on our way to the ocean. Along the beach 
extends a row of houses grown old and gray under the suns and 
rains of many summers ; they seem to look with an air of 
superior wisdom on the pert new cottages scattered here and there 
among them. 

Before us the ocean spreads its glory of light and color, while 
the joy of its eternal youth rings in its mighty song. What has 
it to do with age? Men and their habitations spring up and 
perish on its shores, but it continues changeless. Centuries have 
not dimmed the light which quivers over its blue, and flashes in 
the whiteness of its breaking waves. To-day its voice seems 
strong and jubilant as when it answered back the anthem which 
the morning stars sang together. We satisfy ourselves with gazing 
and turn away, scarcely thinking to ask or care if Nag's Head 
has any other sight to offer than this. But at the hotel we learn 
that the place is not all sand and ocean, as one at first sight might 
readily believe. A party is starting for a drive; incidentally it 


fells out that they arc going to the Fresh Ponds. What are the 
Fresh Ponds, and where? are the questions which naturally 
follow, and, being enlightened on tliese points, we are in due 
course of time on our way thither. 

The road lies for some distance along the sound, across whose 
sparkling waters, dotted with sails, rise the pine-clad hills of 
Roanoke Island. Then, turning, we soon find ourselves in the 
depths of a green wilderness where wooded hill and valley com- 
bine to shut out the sight and thought of the glaring sands, 
and the wind, rustling through the tree-tops, answers the distant 
voice of the ocean. At length we come to an open space where, 
at the foot of green hills, lie the Fresh Ponds. Of these there 
are several. The largest lies near the centre of the open space. 
It seems bottomless, and has a regular tide. The others are 
nearer the surrounding hills. All are fresh and teem with fish 
of various kinds ; consequently they are a favorite resort for 
fishing parties. In strange contrast to the wastes of sand around 
arc these oases of green hills, cool, deep woodland, and quiet 
waters beautiful with white lilies. 

If we have chosen a fortunate hour for our visit to the Fresh 
Ponds, there is yet time to find a favorable stand-point from 
which to see the sunset before returning to the hotel. One of 
the many sand-hills, midway between the ocean and the sound, 
is soon selected. Those who have the courage to toil up through 
the heavy sand will find their reward when they reach the top. 
On one side the sun sinks behind the black line of the pines across 
the sound; on the glassy waters a splendor of crimson and gold 
falls from the upper deep. On the other, a wall of sombre 
cloud, just tipped with silver, looms up behind the ocean, whose 
dark, turbulent waves flash into rosy whiteness as they crash 
upon the shore. 

When the summer pleasures of Nag's Head are over, when 
the sounds of music and dancing are silent, and the surf is no 
more populous with bathers, the visitor who prolongs his stay into 
September, will enjoy a new phase of life in the fishing season 
which now opens. There are stirring sights and sounds on the 


beach on these glorious autumn clays; the rush and roar of the 
waves, the flashing clouds of spray, the shouts of the fishermen 
as some monster blue-fish, drum, or porpoise struggles on the 
sand, and the gleam of long, white wings as the sea-gulls fly past 
with their thin, sharp screams. At this season, the life-saving 
companies stationed at Nag's Head, begin to prepare for winter 
storms. On the first of September, the men begin drilling for 
the work. Everything is done as it would be in case of a wreck ; 
life-boats are sent through the breakers, and the divers make 
ready for their plunge beneath the waves. The place whose 
name perpetuates the deeds of wreckers, has become a station for 
one of the noblest humanities. Instead of the old wrecker's 
lantern, luring sailors to their death, the lamp from the great 
light-house on Body's Island nightly shines across the barren 
sand-hills of Nag's Head. 


Dear reader, are you tired of South Carolina, and are you 
saying, " Enough of a thing is enough, and too much, good for 
nothing ? " Are you counting up cotton, grapes, strawberries, 
rice, butter, and bees, and will you sigh as you see on our title- 
page "Fruit Culture in South Carolina?" 

True, we have led you a long tramp over cotton plantations 
and through boggy rice fields; we have given you butter to 
make, strawberries to pick, wine to drink, and brought you near 
stinging bees. But if you can climb North Carolina's high 
mountains, go into her tobacco factories, and plod through the 
streets of all her little towns, we are sure that we may safely ask 
you to walk over our orchards; only stipulating that, as you 
pluck the red cherries, luscious peaches, mellow apples, golden 
plums and delicious pears, you shall listen patiently to something 
about their culture. 


The young trees are obtained from nurseries in both Xorth 

m CD 

;uk1 South. Georgia furnishes them largely, and her trees are 
the hardiest and the best of fruit-bearers. 

Agents travel over the country yearly, trying to get orders for 

^5 ^ v «.' / •/ CD CD 

different houses. Some time back they were quite successful, 
but they became so tricky that to-day the name of fruit-agent 
stamps one as a cheat. 

Every land-owner has a plot of ground devoted to the culture 
of fruit-trees. When a person settles in a new place his orchard 
is the primary consideration. 

The soil best adapted to our fruits is a medium between the 
light sandy and stiff clay land ; if too sandy, the general appear- 
ance of trees and fruit is stunted, while with too much clay we 
have all tree and no fruit. The trees are put out in regular 
rows, about thirty feet apart, each way ; this great distance is 
necessary to their health and full development. If too close, 
either one will die or both be dwarfed. 

Long before winter has released his icy grasp the farmer has 
his orchard carefully laid out ; then come the laborers, shovel 
in hand, and dig squares four feet each way. These are nearly 
filled with some fertilizer — phosphate is best. 

In the midst of the soft, rich bed, the tender roots of the 
young trees are placed ; then the soil is packed firmly around 
them, and there they stay until the warm March sunbeam pierces 
with its delicate fingers the frozen sod. Under the balmy breath 
of the all-awakening spring the soft leaves soon appear, and later 
on the flowers. 

The lives of our little trees have now begun, and there are 
many dangers to encounter. 

Rabbits abound in South Carolina, and these timid little 
animals are especially fond of the young and tender bark of 
fruit-trees; their bite is certain death. The only way to keep 
them off is to bind the trunks with broom-sage or coat them with 
white lime. But the fruit-tree's worst enemy is a worm called 
the borer. In the fall a large butterfly deposits its eggs in the 
crevices of the bark, where they stay until spring, when they 


hatch and begin their depredations by boring straight into the 
tree. This is very hurtful, but not enough so to satisfy these 
greedy worms, which must needs suck the sap also. The borer 
deposits this sap in gelatinous balls on the surface of the tree. 
A single borer can cut a tree down in three weeks by boring a 
succession of holes through the trunk. In the spring each tree 
must be examined, and the borers taken out with some keen 
instrument which can reach them in the depths of their haunts. 
To kill any stragglers and prevent their multiplication, strong oak- 
ashes and powdered charcoal are placed around the roots and are 
rubbed over the bark. This must be done every year, as the 
insect comes by a never-failing instinct. 

Some time before the approaching spring causes the trees to 
bud, the farmer goes into his orchard and cuts off nearly all the 
growth of the preceding season ; if this is not done the trees 
become vast scrambling things, bearing very little and very 
inferior fruit. Pruning is often made a means of destruction by 
carelessness or want of knowledge. If a tree is trimmed too 
late, that is, after the sap has risen, all the nourishment taken up 
by the roots gradually oozes out of the wounds, and we say the 
tree bleeds to death. If a person knows much of fruit-culture, 
he will coat the uncovered places with wax, the bleeding will 
stop and the danger pass. Numerous insects often infest not 
only the trunks, but the leaves and fruit; among them, and per- 
haps the most troublesome, are the fruit-lice ; you will often 
find two or three layers of them on every leaf of a tree, while the 
fruit seems to be living balls, and countless thousands are stream- 
ing up the trunk. They can be destroyed only by thoroughly 
sprinkling with strong oak-ashes. 

In our changeable climate it often happens that a sudden snap 
of cold destroys all the fruit ; but even this may be prevented 
by exposing the top of the roots; because then the tree will not 
sprout until the soil is replaced, which may be done when all 
danger of frost is passed. In this way, those trees which grow 
so luxuriantly as to have no time for developing fruit, may be 
made to bear. 


Fruit is propagated by grafting. A man has some rare and 
highly prized tree which is mutilated. He does not lose it, but 
carefully cuts off and points the ends of one or more vigorous 
twigs. He then gets some hardy young roots and smooths them 
off about three inches above the ground ; next he makes a slit in 
the top of the root and inserts the pointed end of his twig. The 
two are held together by a mixture of resin and beeswax, called 
grafting-wax. The molecules brought into such close contact 
soon unite, and the tree grows and bears finer fruit because its 
adopted root is hardier and finer than its own. Many varieties 
of fruit may thus be raised from the same root. I have often 
seen four kinds of apples on the same tree. This method has 
lately become very popular, as the trees may be grafted on a 
species of worm-wood which borers will not attack ; it has made 
seed almost useless, and it keeps the true variety, while each 
reproduction degenerates. Fruit-growing is at once pleasant and 
profitable, and interesting; formerly unimportant save for 
private orchards, it has been greatly developed since the late 
war. When there were no longer any slaves to work the vast 
cotton plantations, our planters bethought themselves of making 
a living by enlarging their orchards. So lucrative and charm- 
ing did they find their new occupation, that numbers of farms 
were yearly converted into nurseries. A great competition soon 
arose, each man vied with his neighbor, not only in the quality 
of his fruit, but in the beauty of his grounds. Men of culture 
and intelligence devoted themselves to the improvement of old 
and development of new fruits. 

Our nurseries are not only useful, but beautiful. Who can 
imagine anything prettier than the soft pink and white mantle 
which, in spring, our orchards spread over hill and dale? And 
later on, what a feeling of comfort it gives to see the smiling 
homes deep hidden among their many acres of rich green trees, 
every zephyr disclosing the luscious fruit nestling under its thick 

Soon after the Harvest Moon has made night glorious, the 
careful farmer knows that he must gather in his stores. Armed 


with sheets, wagons, and baskets, the merry harvesters go forth 
to rob the trees of their luscious treasures. In the topmost 
branches the young darkies skip from limb to limb, gaily calling 
to their companions and sending down great showers of the red 
apples to the laughing children below ; anon pelting their neigh- 
bors, or slyly helping themselves to a choice share of massa's 
property. When the labor of the day is over, the evening cabin 
is full of mirth and song. Even the lazy oxen grow brisk, and 
the overflowing wagons rumble homeward so quickly that many 
a bright fruit is dropped by the way. 


In the summer of '83 a strange expedition was set on foot. 
Its plan was, briefly, a walk from Raleigh to the mountains of 
Western North Carolina. Its object was pleasure. Three young 
men of Raleigh, with wandering inclinations, and, as some people 
thought, wandering wits, and with a sublime indifference to 
comfort and opinion, were intent upon a tramp to and through 
the mountains, a distance in all of over five hundred miles. So 
on the evening of the second of July, they set forth. Their 
appearance requires no description. Tramps are plentiful and 
these differed from them in no wise. The red silk handkerchief 
around the neck alone distinguished them from others of their 
brotherhood, and together with the pack upon their back, sug- 
gested the peddler and the gypsy. This pack was almost their 
entire equipment, a change of clothes well wrapped in oil-skin 
and strapped together in a blanket. A belt at the waist held a 
pistol, a small hatchet and a large knife. Their meals were to 
be sought at farm-houses. In one particular they were to offend 
against the vital principles of their order : they were to pay for 
what they ate. 

A few incidents of their long tramp may interest those who 
have never traveled through the country in this fashion. 


On the second evening they arrived at the river Haw. Find- 
ing no bridge, they waited until the next morning to discuss the 
means of crossing. Then they were told that, if they could make 
themselves heard on the other side, a ferryman would come over 
For them. Accordingly they tilled the air with outcries, but 
without success. The river, though shallow, was rocky and 
rapid, and it was only after many futile attempts to attract atten- 
tion from the opposite bank, that they resolved to ford. With 
packs upon their backs, shoes in one hand and a long pole in the 
other, they started in. The sharp, slippery rocks and the force 
of the current made it difficult to keep a footing, and they slowly 
gained the farther bank. It took but a few minutes to discover 
the disappointing fact, that it was one side of an island, and a 
broader stream lav bevond. Thev did not rightly calculate the 
depth of this stream, and as they approached the middle, the 
water rose higher and higher until it reached their shoulders. 
Xow the difficulty of keeping a foothold was tenfold increased, 
as all their possessions were floating on the water, attached only 
by the extreme ends, swaying hither and thither with the current, 
and threatening every instant to detach themselves. By the time 
the waders had passed the centre, the contents of their packs 
were floating gaily down the stream, while they gazed helplessly 
after them. In stony despair they toiled on. Xo less than four 
separate branches of that wretched river did they cross. As they 
were about to enter the last stream, at the only point which the 
thick underbrush allowed, thev came face to face with a hug-e 
hornets' nest. The first two made a sudden plunge into the 
water beyond, and thus escaped ; the third, being a little in the 
rear, reached the nest just as the hornets were fully aroused. In 
fierce defense of their home, they paid him their undivided 
attentions. Retreating precipitately through tangled vines and 
sharp thorns, he reached an open sandy spot, upon which lie 
Hung himself and frantically rolled over and over, still sur- 
rounded and attacked. At length the hornets retired to their 
nest, and then the poor boy arose, smarting from the comibned 
effects of hornets and thorns, abandoned by his companions, and 


alone on the island, with the certain knowledge that his enemies 
held full possession of the only path by which he could regain 
his comrades. What could he do ? Let imagination suggest 
the reply. Attracted by his vociferations, his companions returned 
to the charge, and by a combined attack vanquished the hornets. 
Thankfully all emerged from the last of the four branches, 
and then began an eager search for the articles of which the 
waves had deprived them. " Apparent rari nantes in gurgite 
vasto; " but they were at length recovered. The travellers' next 
care was to secure breakfast, which was only obtained by a further 
walk of four miles. After this memorable morning did any 
unwonted hardship occur, one tramp would turn to the others 
and cheer them with the words of the pious Aeneas, " passi 
graviora, dabit deus his quoque finem." 

As the party approached the mountains, country people became 
more and more puzzled as to what manner of men they were. 
In the unfrequented regions of Yadkin and Wilkes, tramps are 
unknown ; and the inhabitants thought the trio pursuing some 
occult business. It required a great deal of eloquence to persuade 
them that the strangers were neither gold-seekers nor revenue- 

The party entered the mountains through Roaring Gap, in 
Wilkes county, a few miles from the Virginia line. There they 
obtained their first and some of their finest views. It would 
require the brush of the painter to do justice to its beauties. 
Even the far-famed Swananoa seemed tame after the wild gran- 
deur of this Gap. Lying remote from villages and from the prin- 
cipal towns and higher peaks, and seldom visited by tourists, but 
little is known of it. The road, though winding and steep, is 
broad and well constructed, and along it flows all the country 
travel between Eastern Tennessee and Western North Carolina. 
Now and then the road winding up the mountain side, with 
precipitous declivities on the one hand and overhanging heights 
on the other, would emerge from the damp, cool shade of mag- 
nificent chestnuts, upon an open space whence could be seeu, in the 
valley at their feet, the farm-house from which they had started 

ST. MARYS 31 USE. 19 

two hours before, yet seeming so immediately beneath and close 
that one almost feared to drop a stone over the edge of the cliff, 
lest it should go crashing down upon the roof. And yet the 
great distance was proved by the diminutive size of the house 
and all around it. From the top the scene was superb. To 
the east the view was unbounded, and the blue of the horizon 
was like the sea. Through the valley the silvery Yadkin found 
its way, and in the distance loomed the grand old Pilot. 

Next morning the pedestrians arrived at a small village, the 
county-seat of Alleghany, with the ancient name of Sparta. 
Thence the course lay south and westward, and for several days 
wound in and out around the bases of the Peach Bottom Moun- 
tains. Passing Boone, a small town, remarkable for one thing 
and one onlv, viz : for being; the highest town this side of the Mis- 
sissippi, our wanderers followed a most beautiful road, which 
lay for eight miles along the top of the Blue Ridge, terminating 
at Blowing Rock. Nowhere in the mountains could one find 
a more beautiful drive than those eight miles between Boone and 
Blowing Rock. The attractions of the latter place may be 
summed up in a few words : bracing air, beautiful scenery and 
good mountain accommodations at exceedingly low rates ; simply 
a place to rest and recruit; no fashion, no gayety, and few 
amusements ; in fact, only one, and that, to throw your hat over 
the cliff called Blowing Rock and catch it as the strong wind 
surging up from the valley beneath blows it back to you — quite 
a novelty at first, but vou get tired of doing it all day long. 

From Blowing Rock the party determined on a visit to the 
Grandfather. The regular road is sixteen miles, but the blind 
path is only nine. They decided to follow the latter, and left 
Blowing Rock at 3 p. m., carrying a basket of provisions and 
intending to camp on the top. This plan promised a sunset, a 
moonrise, and a sunrise. No difficulty was encountered until 
within two miles of the top ; there, just as the explorers were 
congratulating themselves on their success, the blind path entered 
a wild huckleberry patch, lost itself, and, as a matter of course, 
lost them also. After vain wanderings they called a halt for con- 


sulfation. They knew not how to go forward, but they knew no 
better how to go back. The towering summit was plainly 
visible, almost immediately above and appearing much closer 
than it really was. It was still two hours before dark. There 
was but one thing to do, strike a bee-line for the top ; so the 
mountaineers plunged bravely, but not rashly, forward. Upon 
the other side of the huckleberry patch was a thick growth of 
laurel, which soon became so tangled that it was impossible to 
proceed. Now even the summit could not be seen, for the laurel 
was more than six feet high. Turning hither and thither in 
vain attempts to get out, the bewildered travellers lost their 
sense of direction and toiled blindly on until they reached a 
ravine through which flowed a' beautiful stream. Its bed was 
filled with huge boulders, around whose bases it brawled along, 
cutting for itself deep basins in the solid rock where the water 
stood calm, clear and cold. It was not yet dark and the 
courageous climbers had not relinquished all hope of reaching 
the summit. By ascending the stream to its source, they reasoned, 
we must arrive in the neighborhood of the top. Progress 
became difficult and dangerous. From rock to rock they sprang, 
falling now and then into the pools beneath, and in imminent 
danger of breaking a limb at every such fall. The light began 
to fade. The fate of Dr. Mitchell, rumors that they had heard 
of bears and wolves upon the mountain, and the story of the 
panther that had been captured near the top, and that had after- 
ward escaped, came forcibly to mind, followed by the remem- 
brance that, since the occurrences at Haw river the pistol had 
been useless, and one hatchet was their sole weapon of defense. 
These thoughts were not comfortable, but they decided the plan 
of action; which plan was to halt on a flat rock, jutting out 
into the stream, make a drift-wood fire, and camp for the night- 
Just then came an appalling discovery. In the eagerness of the 
last consultation, the lunch-basket had been left behind ! Then 
three foot-sore, famished wanderers drank some water, folded 
their blankets around them, and lay down on the rock. But 
another uncomfortable reflection presented itself: rattlesnakes 


are abundant in the mountains, they make their holes under 
rocks, and are readily attracted by the glare and heat of a fire. 
The sympathetic gurgle of the stream afforded little consola- 
tion ; the thought of the mountains brought no repose; but 
tired bodies made their owners sleep. At midnight all were 
roused by the cold splashing of water in their faces ; the fire 
was nearly out and it was raining hard. Huddled close to- 
gether, with one blanket thrown over their heads, they sat in 
silent endurance. Soon the blanket was drenched, and so were 
they. Some one essayed the " passi graviora" &c., but it no 
longer possessed power to console. This was worse than the 
Haw. One thought gave a little comfort. An old Confederate 
soldier had told them, in speaking of the hardships of the war, 
that once his regiment had been stationed at nightfall in the 
midst of a swamp, the water reaching above the knees. He had 
taken two pine fence-rails, and, laying one end of each upon a 
stump projecting out of the water, and the other ends upon the 
ground, had actually slept the night through, lying upon two 
inclined rails, half in, half out of the water. Comparing their 
situation with his, the tourists concluded that perhaps the differ- 
ence was in their favor. 

The rain ceased at last and the fire was rebuilt. Then an 
Indian war dance was executed for purposes of warmth; but 
tired muscles would not permit this to be long kept up, and three 
miserable figures crouched close to the blaze, shivering with every 
breath of the night-wind as it whistled down the gorge. The 
.remaining hours wore slowly away. In the cold gray dawn our 
travellers started down the ravine, knowing it must ultimately 
lead to the foot of the mountain. The descent was even more 
difficult than the ascent. The rocks had become very slippery 
from the shower of the night before, and leaping from boulder 
to boulder was perilous business. Several times they essayed on 
hands and knees to crawl through the laurel to the higher ground 
on either side, and in every case failed. At length they reached 
a path cut by surveyors some years ago and now almost over- 


grown. Slowly and painfully they toiled along it, and when, at 
ten o'clock, they reached a farm-house, they were too exhausted 
to rejoice. 

An unlimited supply of breakfast and two hours of rest so 
revived strength and spirits that the party determined to make a 
second ascent of the Grandfather ; this time, however, taking with 
them a guide. Proceeding along the route of the evening before, 
they discovered where they had left the path, and, after a short 
search, found the lunch-basket. During the night it had been 
colonized by ants, but this mattered little to hungry boys. The 
blind path, at all times almost imperceptible, frequently became 
quite so, except to the experienced guide, and, had the party not 
missed the path where they did, they must have done so after- 
wards. Moreover, the climbing was steeper and more rugged. than 
any that they had yet done. The view from the top was grand, 
but no one cared to try another night upon the mountain, and, 
long before dark, the descent on the other side was begun. The 
road, though steep, was so broad and plain that it could not be 
missed, and before sunset all were at the foot. They had done 
the Grandfather; but, as one of them sadly remarked, "it, too, 
had done them." 

After a day or two at a pleasant farm-house they wandered on 
through Watauga and into Mitchell, spent a short while at the 
Cranberry Mines, and thence crossed the boundary and went up 
the Roan from the Tennessee side. The beauties of the Roan 
are too well known to require description. Suffice it to say that 
sunset from its summit was the most magnificent sight of the 
journey. The night on top, at Cloudland Hotel, was one of 
unalloyed enjoyment, to which the tremendous fire crackling on 
the hearth, though it was in July, contributed greatly. 

From the Roan, the boys tramped all through Mitchell county, 
and on into Buncombe, spending but little time at Asheville, but 
passing on down the Western North Carolina Railroad through 
Swananoa Gap on their return journey. And so ended their 



The question of the education of women has assumed a con- 
siderable importance of late. A bill for the secondary education 
of women, presented by M. Camille See, has been passed by the 
two houses of the French Parliament. The Superior Board 
of Public Instruction has sketched the course of studies and 
made out its schedule. A certain number of establishments 
are already open ; others, a larger number, are in prepara- 
tion. M. Greard, Member of the Institute, and Vice-Rector 
of the Academy of Paris, in a report of which we shall speak 
further on in detail, has laid the question before us with a 
learned account of the theories and facts which preceded and 
prepared for the actual movement. At the same time, by an 
interesting and significant coincidence, an eminent savant of 
Belgium, M. Louis Trasenster, Rector of the University of 
Liege, delivered an important discourse upon the higher edu- 
cation of women at the opening of that University. In France, 
the growing success of the lectures of the Sorbonne, founded 
by M. Duruy, has proved by experiment the emcacy and 
utility of this education, and by an experience of more than 
eighteen years, has answered all the alarmist objections which 
were raised in the beginning to these lectures, and which are 
renewed to-day, with the same exaggeration, to the new ones. Let 
us remark, also, that this movement was, in a great measure, 
begun and provoked by the young women themselves, who, by 
their eagerness for examinations from which they do not dream 
of drawing any pecuniary benefit, have especially evinced their 
desire for study and their ardor for work. Among the young 
women who present themselves to obtain the certificate of pro- 
ficiency in primary education, M. Greard tells us that scarcely a 
fourth part are preparing for the schools. Supposing that there 
is another fourth who will devote themselves to liberal education, 
and for whom this certificate will be a guaranty and a recommen- 
dation, there remains at least half, who desire nothing from 


the examination but an official statement of the result of their 
efforts. Add to these those who pass higher examinations (those 
of the baccalaureate of letters and sciences, and the doctorate of 
medicine), and we arrive at this conclusion, that it is the women 
themselves who, spontaneously, and to satisfy a legitimate curios- 
ity, have turned their attention to study. This is a remarkable 
symptom which the State could not neglect, and by which it 
has happily been inspired in its recent action. 

M. Trasenster's paper contains a large number of interesting 
facts and elevated opinions concerning the higher education of 
women. Russia seems to have begun that revolution which has 
given women access to schools. A special school of medicine 
was there founded, and during a period of seven years, nine hun- 
dred and fifty-nine women presented themselves for examination 
at this school ; seven hundred and eighteen were received. Pro- 
fessor de Cyon declares that women are very apt in microscopic, 
and even anatomic, research. The professors have stated that the 
pupils in general have risen to the same height as men. The 
Faculty, having been consulted, was of the opinion that the same 
titles and rights should be given to women as to men. M. de 
Cyon affirms that female doctors render the greatest service in 
campaigns; several were engaged in the medical service of the 
army during the war against Turkey. This school which was 
working so well and giving such satisfactory results, has been 
suppressed ; but literary and scientific lectures, which form a sort 
of university for the use of women, have been maintained. If 
from Russia, we pass to Switzerland, we find analogous facts. 
At Berne a young woman has obtained the title of Doctor of 
Laws. The University at Geneva, in 1881, had on its roll fifty- 
three women, especially for the course of belles-lettres. 

The author glances at the condition of female education in 
England and America, noting particularly its very wide exten- 
sion in the latter country, and the high standard there attained 
in science, letters, and the arts; and ends his discourse by laying 
before us the actual state of the question in Belgium. He lends 
all the weight of his authority as a savant and his long experience 


as a professor, to the opinion that universities should he open to 
women. It was to accelerate this movement, that he chose this 
question for the subject of his address. He lays stress on the 
argument that the education of men depends upon that of women. 
It is often remarked that the greater number of superior men 
have had distinguished mothers. It is the mother who inspires 
in her child the sentiments that will make a man of him. Peo- 
ple complain that woman's knowledge will degenerate into 
pedantry; but does not piety degenerate sometimes into bigotry, 
and grace into affectation? 

M. Trasenster invokes a high authority in favor of these 
opinions, that of the Bishop of Orleans, M. Dupanloup, who, on 
the question of the education of women, has maintained the most 
liberal and sj;enerous notions. We ourselves would scarcelv dare 
to speak with such freedom. One must be a bishop to have the 
right to use the following words : "Letnoone mistake: rigid 
opinions with trifling occupations, devotion to forms with a 
purely material and worldly life, deprive women of resources for 
themselves, and sometimes render them insupportable to their 
husbands and children. The painful truth is, that education, 
even a religious one, does not often give, gives far too rarely to 
girls a love of work. I attribute this distaste for work, first to 
the education which is given them, light, frivolous, and super- 
ficial, when it is not false; and next, to the part assigned them 
in the world, and to the place reserved for them in families, even 
in Christian ones. You will not have women study; then 
women will not let those around them study. You will let them 
do nothing; they will have others idle; thev encourage neither 
their husbands nor their children to work. As long as women 
know nothing, they will want men to be idle; and as long as 
men cannot make up their minds to work, they will want women 
to be ignorant and frivolous." 

Let us turn now to M. Givard's report. It contains at once 

the history of facts and ideas, and from this simple account, 

without sustaining any argument, the author proves the necessity 

of the new education. The Revolution did not interest itself 



much in the education of girls. It left that out of its plans and 
projects. Under the Consulate, Fourcroy declared in a report 
of 1802, that "the law pays no attention to the education of 
women." We learn that at that time there were at Paris only 
twenty-four schools for girls, and those, without scholars, with- 
out books, without furniture. So much for primary instruction. 
As to the secondary, that was still less cared for. It is to Mme. 
Campan that due is the honor of having given an impulse to 
the education of women after the Revolution and under the First 
Empire. Under her guidance, and in imitation of her efforts, 
numerous boarding-schools were founded, and the convents, sup- 
pressed by the Revolution, began to reopen. The characteristic 
of the education of this time, says M. Greard, was frivolity. 
"Dramatic representations, card-playing, and dancing, held an 
important place, perhaps the most important." Mme. de Genlis, 
charged with the inspection of public schools, succeeded in cor- 
recting a number of abuses. It was about this time that the 
houses of the Legion of Honour were opened, Saint-Denis, 
Ecouen ; and it was Mme. Campan who compiled their by-laws. 
Some other persons applied themselves, during this period, to 
intellectual restoration for women. 

From 1815 to 1820, legislation began to busy itself with these 
divers establishments, and to distinguish them into different 
classes ; schools, boarding-schools, and institutes. A certificate 
of proficiency was instituted for the primary schools ; a higher 
diploma was demanded from the teachers. These first rules 
were developed and systematized in the excellent law of the 7th 
of March, 1837, which was, says M. Greard, the first charter 
for the secondary education of women. Under the impulse of 
this legislation and the liberal spirit which then prevailed, 
female education made rapid progress. 

The law of the 15th of March, 1850, stopped short this out- 
burst. The check was the more fatal, as it professed to be made 
in the name of liberty. The regulation of the 7th of March, 
1837, had appointed four degrees of instruction for girls; pri- 
mary elementary schools, primary high schools, boarding-schools, 


and institutes. All this hierarchy so laboriously built up, was 
in an instant broken down. The degrees to which they corre- 
sponded and the certificates which represented them, were sup- 
pressed. Any one had the right to teach everything. Such was 
the state of affairs in 1867, when M. Jules Simon, of the legis- 
lative body, demanded the aid of the State. The recent legisla- 
tion has, in the name of the State, opened lyceums for young 
women. These institutions, new in France, only follow the 
example of those in a number of foreign countries, and, in this 
aspect, are not even an innovation. 

So much for facts. We must not forget that the only mode of 
public education under the old regime was that of convents. The 
question of public education, then, was complicated with the 
ecclesiastical ; and for the most part, especially with the philoso- 
phers of the eighteenth century, private education meant nothing 
more than a secular one. One cannot imagine to-day the kind of 
education girls received in the strictly religious houses of the sev- 
enteenth century, — for instance, at Port-Royal. There they were 
taught nothing but the catechism, reading, writing, and a little 
arithmetic. The rest of the time was devoted to acts of piety; 
they went from prayer to meditation, from meditation to lessons; 
the children could never speak above a whisper, were accompanied 
by nuns, and walked some distance apart so as not to be able to talk. 
The education of all the convents was not so absurd; there were, 
as now-a-days, some wordly convents of which Fenelon com- 
plained. Mine, de Maintenon had the honor of introducing 
some light, some grace, some seriousness, into this education, as 
fanatical as it was superficial. She was a great teacher. She 
discarded exaggerated devotions ; " The institute," she said, " is 
not designed for prayer, but for action." She forbade her teach- 
ers the monastic habit ; she wished to make a sort of college of 
Saint-Cyr. But even at Saint-Cyr, whose liberal spirit we have 
recognized, the scholars saw their parents only four times a year, 
and then, in the presence of a teacher; the models for their let- 
ters were made out beforehand; there was no free intercourse 
between parent and child. 


Concerning the course and kind of studies, it is difficult to 
distinguish clearly between primary and secondary education. 
In the seventeenth century, the education of girls was reduced to 
the most elementary level. The Abbe Fleury complained of this 
poverty, and he was one of the first who proposed a more eleva- 
ted programme for women; but even this one is singularly 
limited. It forbids, for instance, literature and history; that is, 
all that makes the life and soul of a woman's education. There 
were, however, some essentials which the new programme had to 
teach : for instance, " some ideas of domestic economy, hygiene, 
and jurisprudence" (!) Fenelon goes further than the Abb6 
Fleury ; he allows the reading of secular books which do not 
excite the passions, Grecian and Roman history. He recom- 
mends that "girls be not left ignorant of the history of France, 
which has also its beauties." One cannot help remarking this 
permissive manner of recommending the history of France. He 
forbids Italian and Spanish, which serve only for reading novels, 
but he does not absolutely forbid Latin. This was a relatively 
broad and elevated programme. That of Saint-Cyr is more matter- 
of-fact. INTo Latin, no foreign languages, little reading. Just 
enough history "not to confound an Emperor of Rome with 
an Emperor of China." Mme. de Lambert is more bold 
and liberal. It is true, she addresses herself to women of 
quality. She protests against Moliere, who, perhaps, when one 
reads this account, may not seem to have been so much in the 
right in his "Femmes Savantes" as we are accustomed to think 
him. He may well have taken the wrong side of the question, 
and in condemning some excesses, have compromised the cause 
of serious progress. Mine, de Lambert presents a programme 
as wise as it is elevated : she limits herself to useful knowledge. 
She likes Grecian and Roman history, which inspire courage by 
the example of great actions ; she exacts the history of France 
with more stringency than Fenelon: "one may not be ignorant 
of her own country." She does not even forbid philosophy, if 
the scholars are capable of it. The Abbe de St. Pierre adds a 
new element to this programme, that is, some knowledge of the 


sciences. He demands that "iris .should be taught "a little 
astronomy, some knowledge of the machinery of animal bodies, 
Something about the causes of several natural phenomena, such 
as rain, hail, and thunder." Mine. Campan's plan, also, takes 
in some of the sciences, i. e., cosmography and practical botany. 
History and geography are also mentioned without any restric- 
tion, therefore universal history and universal geography are 
included; but literature and the living languages are entirely 
excluded. Such was the schedule of studies for the houses of 
the Legion of Honour up to their last years. We see how far 
it was from fulfilling our ideas of a real secondary education. 
Mme. Necker de Saussure, in her ideal plan of studies, presents 
to us much broader views. She includes the sciences, languages, 
literature, and art. Mme. de Remusat demands that the educa- 
tion of girls be more like that of boys. This rule has been 
that of all courses of study for fifty years; the countries in which 
the education of women receives most attention have no other. 
Moral science, the vernacular and living languages, history, 
geography, arithmetic, elements of geometry, natural and physi- 
cal sciences, domestic economy, and common law, drawing, 
music, and gymnastics : such is the collection of knowledge 
more or less extensive, which constitutes the common fund of all 
the nations by which we are surrounded. The law of December 
21st, 1880, has only adopted the same. 

There remains a last and entirely philosophical question; it is 
the comparative intelligence of woman and man. M. Greard 
gives us a curious and piquant account of this old quarrel, which 
still exists. In the seventeenth century there were, as was natu- 
ral, two women who supported the doctrine of the equality of 
the sexes, Mile, de Gournay and Anna Schurmann. Beside them 
the author places the name of an almost unknown Protestant 
theologian of the seventeenth century, Poullain de La Barre, 
whose "Discours ct Entretiens," several times reprinted, ap- 
peared eighteen months after " Les Femmes Savantes." In these 
discourses the author maintains that an equality of education 
must correspond to an equality of nature. He asserts that, a> to 


men there is no greater pleasure than to know, this pleasure 
should be the same for both sexes. According to him, the defects 
imputed to women — gossip, artifice, falsehood, coquetry — are the 
results of conventual education. He conceives the plan of an 
establishment for forming governesses and teachers ; he shows 
the manner of grading, the books, the methods to be used ; we 
could think ourselves in our normal schools. He concludes that 
there is no science of which woman is not capable. He goes even 
further, and demands that, possessing science in the same degree 
as man, she may, like him, "fill ecclesiastical dignities, be the 
general of an army, or exercise the rights of judicature." If the 
doctrine of equality has paradoxical defenders, that of inferiority 
has those who are no less so. We regret to have to count J. J. 
Rousseau among the latter. We may well expect some paradox 
on his part, but we would rather have seen him among those who 
exaggerate than those who lower woman's place. According to 
Rousseau, her education should be entirely relative to that of 
man ; her single duty is to please. 

There is, happily, room for a golden mean which raises woman's 
honor and dignity without identifying her role with that of man ; 
for there will always be a difference which no education can efface 
and which suffices to diversify their destiny. We have enough 
to do to raise the education of women to its proper level, with- 
out being obliged to sustain the absolute equality of the two sexes. 
M. Greard expresses this mean with a superior tact and charming 
delicacy of touch: "It is no longer an age in which people 
question whether woman has a soul, or if her soul differs from 
man's. What is incontestable is that neither their destiny nor 
their nature is the same. Now, the aim of education is per- 
fection in the order of nature. Let us, then, fortify that reason 
which is the common good, without prejudicing those gifts which 
are peculiar to woman. All weaknesses are not defects, nor are 
all energies virtues. Woman reigns by her native qualities; 
her instinct guides her sometimes as happily as the most rigorous 
logic. She knows how to ally the lighter graces with sterling 
good sense. She possesses tact, impulsiveness, charm. These 


are the incomparable riches which we need only direct and perfect, 
ft has been remarked that women have always had wit, con- 
versational powers and taste, without those studies which we 
wish to make them pursue to-day. Mine, de Sevigne, Mme. de 
Stael, Mine, de Lafayette, Mme. de Main tenon, and many others, 
are cited in support of the assertion. But it was just Mme. de 
Sevigne who had pursued solid studies with Menage; Mine, de 
Stael's mind was formed in the most cultivated literary society; 
Mme. de Maintenon was not so well educated, but her mind was 
more masculine. In any case, these different examples show that 
strength of mind does not destroy the charm of the sex. Besides, 
this is no question of exceptional women. It is not for them 
that we are organizing this vast plan. Superior women form 
themselves. It is of minds of ordinary calibre that we speak. 
And it is precisely because learning is so insufficiently diffused 
that pedantry is to be found in those who know a little more 
than others. If we can but educate a few to a higher plane of 
ideas thev will communicate a certain life to society. Elevated 
subjects will inspire more interest; and, truly, who could com- 


As life in each Quaker home is a repetition of that in its neigh- 
bor, a picture of one in which I have spent many pleasant days 
may be a fair representation of most. It is situated in the little 
Quaker village of K., in the eastern part of the State, and it is 
one of the happiest spots that I ever visited. In approaching 
the house you first enter a wide gate, which opens upon a long, 
shady carriage-drive, and also upon a narrow foot-path that leads 
to the house through beds of sweet, old-fashioned flowers. As 
we draw near, the shrubs and trees begin to assume a more culti- 
vated appearance. Along the first part of the drive they have 
evidently been left to grow at their own sweet will. One side 


of the yard, near the house, is filled with flowers, and on the 
other is a smooth, green lawn, a favorite croquet-ground for the 
young people of the village. However much the parents of 
Quaker maidens may frown and shake their heads at their daugh- 
ters' walking or driving with the lads, they feel perfectly safe 
when they are engaged in a game of croquet, though with the 
same lads. Surely nothing can be more innocent! 

The house itself is a large, roomy building, abounding in 
verandas of all sizes and shapes, which start out in most unex- 
pected places. But it is not at all like modern houses, broken 
out in queer porches and windows to make a showy effect ; these 
windows and verandas bespeak comfort, but no thought of dis- 
play. The front piazza is upheld by huge pillars, completely 
covered by the twining vines of honeysuckle and yellow jessa- 
mine. The wide door has a curious knocker, shaped like an ele- 
phant's head. As we enter, a breezy hall stretches before us, and 
at the end is a large stair-case with wide banisters and low, broad 
steps. The parlor, library, and dining-room open off this hall, 
and the bed-rooms are up-stairs. Higher up still, is the big gar- 
ret, and though the old furniture and the queer Quaker dresses 
and bonnets would seem delightfully old-fashioned in any other 
garret, here they only accord with the rest of the house. Be sure 
that we find no trace of old armor or anything that would hint 
at battle, in this garret. A Damascus blade itself would not be 
cherished by a Friend. From the wide windows you see the 
whole of the large farm, its meadows filled with cattle, its fields 
yellow with golden grain, and its orchards glowing with bril- 
liant fruit. The dining-room is used as sitting-room, for parlor 
and library are for company. It is a large, airy room, furnished 
with old-fashioned furniture, and the "grandfather's clock" is 
an object of great veneration to all the family, especially to the 
children ; for they never dare touch its shining brass knobs with- 
out especial permission. A large cupboard, filled with preserves, 
a long table neatly set, and a flower-stand full of bright gera- 
niums, give the room a cheerful, home-like air, while a big work- 
basket shows that it is no idling-place. The housekeeping is of 


the neatest and mast economical kind; but there is no approach 
to stinginess. Generally, every one rises at six in the winter, and 
five, or half past, in the summer. As soon as breakfast is over 
the men are off to their farms or stores, and the women are busy 
putting the house to rights. One o'clock is dinner-time, and as 
the clock points to the hour, the big, fat cook takes from a nail 
in the corner a curious horn, and blows upon it lustily. The 
clear, loud notes reverberate through the fields and meadows and 
the hands drop their work and come trooping in to their meal. 
The sound of the horn reaches the ears of the children at play 
on the academy green. They rush home, laughing and shouting 
with all their might, and little like the tidy, demure, small peo- 
ple who started so soberly to school in the morning. At sunset 
the horn is once more heard, this time calling every one to sup- 
per, and then all work is stopped for the day. 

Many people think that Quaker children are veritable little 
saints, but if they should stay among them long enough thev 
would find this a mistake; more mischievous young folk never 
existed. In the house where I was staying there were four chil- 
dren, and each was a perfect curiosity. They were all remarka- 
ble for their inquiring turn of mind, and this inquisitiveness 
often embarrasses a stranger. The oldest was but eight, and 
already quite a little sage in her way. One evening, my 
father was inquiring about a neighbor who, he heard, was 
going to move out AYest; and he expressed surprise at the 
suddenness of the proceedings; the little girl turned to him 
with an expression of astonishment in her big brown eyes, 
and said, "Why, cousin Jonathan, I am surprised that thee 
should believe that news. Has thee yet to learn that all that 
one hears is not true?" One day there was company to dinner, 
and among the guests was a stranger. The children immedi- 
ately proceeded to examine him upon every subject they could 
think of. When all were seated at the table, and enjoying the 
dainties spread before us, one of the little ones suddenly re- 
marked, " Friend, will thee tell me how much this dinner would 
have cost thee at the hotel?" This question, so abruptly put, 


embarrassed the stranger very much. He expected to hear the 
parents rebuke the child for her curiosity. But, strangely 
enough it seemed to him, they had not even noticed what she 
said ; and even if they had, so usual are such remarks, that they 
would never have thought this out of the way. Indeed the 
parents generally let their children do as they please, unless they 
directly disobey some command, which is not often. Though 
fond of fun and frolic, the youngsters can be as grave and sober 
as a judge, when there is nothing to tempt them to mischief. 
They are perfect little mimics, and it is extremely amusing to talk 
to them. The quaint sayings for which the Quakers are noted, 
and the pretty "thees" and "thous" roll glibly from their ton- 
gues, and make their conversation irresistible. They never pre- 
fix a tile to the name of any one with whom they are familiar ; per- 
haps a mite of six or seven calls an old grey-haired lady Ruth, 
or a venerable gentleman Timothy. One might think that the 
inquiring disposition of these children would make them very 
disagreeable, but it is so evidently only a desire to get at the 
truth of a matter, and they question you in so open and frank 
a way, that you never think of their curiosity as impertinent. 
Indeed it is hard to become angry with them, for their engaging 
manner in confessing their small sins makes even their naughti- 
ness charming. 

People who have lived among the Quakers long enough to 
become acquainted with their characteristics, never venture to 
ask their opinion, unless able to bear it, for they are sure to get 
it exactly, be it never so uncomplimentary. Candor characterizes 
all their actions. They never try to appear richer than they are, 
by scrimping at home so as to make a big show abroad, neither 
do they try to make a bad matter appear different from what it is. 

The dress of the Quakeresses is of the simplest kind. Dame 
Fashion, mistress of half the women in the universe, does not 
hold her sway over them, old or young. It is true that the ris- 
ing generation have shown a tendency to join their worldly sis- 
ters in allegiance to this mistress, but these tendencies are gently 
checked by the mothers and grandmothers. Often have I seen 


a dear old grandmother shake her head at what seemed the 
worldly dress of her young granddaughter and say, "Ah! my 
child, what does thee think my dear mother would have said if 
I had worn such a dress when I was young? When thee is as 
old as thy grandmother, thee will see how vain and useless are 
all the care and thought which you young folks spend on dress." 
But though the Quakeresses may not dress according to the latest 
fashion, we never see them wear cheap material. The laces and 
silks must be of the finest, even though sober in color. 

All who know the Friends, are struck not only by the simpli- 
city of their homes, but by the success of their government, and 
the calm spirit which enters into all their social life. Their 
towns are destitute of bar-rooms and gambling-saloons, and it is 
a rare occurrence for a street fight or any of the like debasing 
sports to disturb the peace. The exciting political questions 
which so agitate the mind of the world's public never disturb 
the Quakers. They carry on their elections and other public 
matters as calmly as they do their every-day home affairs. 

They are very just in all their dealings; and have never been 
known to cheat any one out of a single penny: nor do they 
allow any one to cheat them. In buying or selling, they will 
neither give nor take a fraction more or less than what is per- 
fectly just and right. People who do not understand them, and 
who are not able to see the quiet vein of humor underlying their 
grave character, often try to cheat them or to play a joke upon 
them. This is attempted but once, for the natural shrewdness 
of the Friend enables him to see through almost any trickster, 
and his keenness and wit often help him to turn the tables upon 
the would-be-joker. Strangers are apt to suppose them stern 
and grave, never thinking of anything beyond their every-day 
lives, or any one outside their own people. This is a mistaken 
idea, as any one who has ever lived among them can testify. 
Though thev cling to their own customs and faith and rarely 
change any of their habits, thev are bv no means bigoted. On 
the contrary, they always respect a man's creed, no matter how 
far it may be from theirs. They are quick to find out when any 


one is in distress, and they try by every means in their power to 
alleviate suffering, be the sufferer friend or foe. During the late 
Avar, though their belief forbade their engaging in the terrible 
struggle, none could have been more zealous in care of the 
wounded soldiers, or more liberal in hospitality towards the gal- 
lant heroes, than were the Quakers. Perhaps their most prom- 
inent characteristic is their hospitality. From their first arrival 
in this country, they have never refused shelter even to their per- 
secutors. It is impossible to feel strange and ill at ease in their 
homes, and they treat all so cordially, that none ever leave them 
without regret. 

The Quakers are noted the world over for their strict observ- 
ance of religious duties, and on no account do they ever willingly 
absent themselves from meeting. The meeting-house at R. is a 
plain little wooden building, which, from being situated in a 
grove of pines, has the name " Piney Wood's Meeting-house." 
As the home where I used to visit was quite near the meeting- 
house, the family was always one of the first to arrive ; and, while 
waiting for the rest of the congregation to assemble and for ser- 
vice to begin, I used to amuse myself watching the groups of 
villagers, as they walked slowly up the long shady path that 
leads to the meeting-house. There was one group, consisting of 
a father, a mother, two children and an old lady, the children's 
grandmother. I looked eagerly for this arrival, for they seemed 
so happy together, that their presence removed the feeling of 
oppression which the silence and gravity of the surroundings 
caused. The old grandmother's face wore a sweet expression of 
rest ; and her whole appearance, from the quaint Quaker-bonnet 
and the snowy kerchief crossed on her bosom and caught with a 
queer little pearl brooch to the bottom of her soft grey dress, 
accorded with its repose. The father and mother were a bright, 
happy-looking couple, and seemed to be very proud of the two 
children who walked hand in hand by their side. These children 
were merry-looking little creatures, in spite of their attempt to 
make their faces grave on coming into the meeting-house ; and 
every now and then a mischievous glance from the boy to his 


sister almost overcame her gravity. Then the old grandmother 
cast her gentle eye upon them, and they immediately became 
sober again. Bv this time, the rest of the congregation have 
assembled, and the path is lined with groups of villagers. Among 
them are demure maidens, who would not for the world lift their 
bashful eyas toward the shy lads, though the latter gaze furtively 
at them, and wish the parents would not keep so strict a watch. 
When all have entered the meeting-house, twelve old men, called 
" Elders," kneel and offer silent prayer. After which the entire 
congregation remains in perfect stillness, waiting until the Spirit 
move some one to speak or pray. Perhaps, at last, the sweet 
voice of a young matron is heard. She has risen from her seat 
in the centre of the meeting-house; she folds her hands, and prays 
earnestly in words of her own choosing. Her prayer is answered 
by an earnest "Amen" from the people. Another silence is 
broken by an old man singing a hymn which he must have 
learned years ago. The words get very much mixed up, and his 
voice is so cracked and broken that the two children spoken of 
before, receive another warning glance from their grandmother. 
The meeting lasts far about two hours, and is broken up by the 
presiding folders, who, after a second silent prayer, rise and shake 
one another by the hand. Four times a year there is a general 
meeting, attended by all Friends in the State. " Quarterly Meet- 
ing," as this is called, is often held in R., and, during that week 
the little town is in a most unusual state of bustle. The homes 
are thrown open to visitors, and the housekeepers exhaust their 
wonderful knowledge of cookery in preparation of dainties for 
their guests. Early on First Day morning the grove in front of 
the meetiug-house is lined with carts, wagons and carriages, and 
there is hardly a tree which is not a hitch ing-post for some horse 
or donkey. The foot-path is crowded with people coming early 
to secure seats. 

The meeting begins at eleven o'clock, and is conducted as on 
First Days, only there are no long pauses between the prayers 
and sermons, for there are several noted Quakers and Quakeresses 
appointed to lead it. At one o'clock a recess of an hour or so 

38 ST. 31ARY'S MUSE. 

occurs, in which the congregation adjourns to a shady part of the 
grove to partake of a bountiful lunch. After every one has eaten 
his fill and rested, a bell rings and the congregation return to 
the meeting-house, where they remain till five. The meeting 
over, the little town once more settles down into the quiet village. 


Most men who travel in the East feel called upon by enthu- 
siasm, or by fashion, to write glowing descriptions of its wonders, 
thereby adding their atoms of individual experience to the mass 
of the world's knowledge. He who can, goes to Switzerland and 
writes of the scenery; to Paris, and writes of Parisian style and 
luxury; to London, and writes of its magnificence; to Italy, and 
writes of its skies, its monuments, its art, and, above all, of 
Rome, once the Mistress of the world, the home of Virgil and of 
Cicero. Turkey and Egypt, by virtue of their recent wars, 
have long been popular topics of conversation, and have been the 
means of waking into activity many an idle author's pen. The 
problems which France and Russia are trying to solve will make 
them, for some time to come, objects of intense interest to the 

But nobody writes of Denmark. True, its dimensions are 
insignificant, but so are those of Greece, once the sole home of 
civilization and the arts, which flourished wonderfully within its 
narrow bounds and reached a perfection never since attained. 
The tiny northern peninsula, almost surrounded by the North 
Sea and the Baltic, the Skager Rack and the Categat, produced 
a " powerful, strong, heroic race," whom love of the sea and a 
bold, daring spirit led forth from their little home to conquer and 
to colonize. If Greece is the mother of beauty, Denmark is the 
mother of strength. The Greeks worshipped Venus and Dio- 
nysus, the Danes worshipped Woden (Strength) and Thor, the 


Thunderer. Greece produced the arts and sciences, Denmark has 
given them to the world. From Denmark sprang the great prac- 
tical, enterprising nation which lias borne learning and Chris- 
tianity to the Indies, peopled this mighty country, and pushed to 
the north, south, east and west, so that the sun never sets on her 
dominions. On the map we see the peninsula of Jutland form- 
ing part of the mainland of Denmark. Here, in old times, lived 
the Jutes, the most northern of three tribes bound together by 
the closest ties, speaking the same language and known among 
themselves bv the common name — English. At the invitation 
of the Britons, these tribes crossed the sea and quickly freed the 
islanders from the inroads of their powerful neighbors, the Picts 
and Scots. Then, finding it a pleasant land, they sent for their 
friends, turned against the natives, and, after a short struggle, in 
which all traces of the former inhabitants were mercilessly swept 
away, they made the land their own. The commanders of the 
fierce Jutes were Hengist and Horsa, names familiar to every 
child as the first English heroes. (Bede's Ecc. Hist, and Sax. 

After years of petty quarrel, the conquerors united the island 
into the Kingdom of England, and under the influence of civili- 
zation and Christianity, enjoyed peace until their kinsmen, the 
Danes, again began their piratical incursions. They bore with 
them heathen gods and customs. All know the sequel — the strife 
which followed, the triumph of the Danes, who became tempo- 
rary rulers of the land, and their subsequent expulsion. But all 
were not driven away, for in the eleventh century, when the 
Saxons fell by the Norman sword, or submitted to the Norman 
power, the men of Danelagh fought until they could fight no 
longer; then, scorning the rule of the invader, they retreated to 
the forests, and there formed a band of free- spirited outlaws, from 
whom was drawn, in later years, the myth of Robin Hood. 
While the life of the land was almost crushed beneath Norman 
despotism, these Danish outlaws preserved that spirit of inde- 
pendence which, at length, diffusing itself into all classes, made 
P^ngland preeminently the land of liberty. 


In the fourteenth century, Denmark, Norway and Sweden were 
united in one great kingdom, of which Denmark was the centre 
and the ruling power. After a series of revolts, Sweden and 
Norway withdrew from the league, and, by degrees, Denmark 
lost province after province, until her territory was reduced to one 
of the smallest in Europe. At the battle of Copenhagen, 1807, 
she was forced to give up her fleet and several foreign possessions. 
Finally, in the war of 1864, her military glory received its death- 
blow, and two of her fairest provinces were wrenched from her. 
Danish hearts grieved sorely when the German army ruthlessly 
pulled down the great wall which had guarded the land since the 
days of Gorm, its first king. 

But, though Denmark is small, her influence is still powerful, 
and we see one by one of her royal family go forth from the lit- 
tle country to occupy the throne of Greece, and to share those of 
Russia, of Sweden, and of England. 

The old fire and restlessness has sobered into energy and indus- 
try. Most eager in the pursuit of learning, the Danes have 
established colleges in their principal cities, and have so provided 
for the education of the poorer classes by free schools, that it is 
rare to find the meanest peasant who cannot read and write. The 
women of the royal family are reputed the most learned in Europe, 
and in the muster-roll of men whom the world delights to honor, 
few names stand higher than those of Oehlenschlager, Thorwald- 
sen, and Hans Christian Andersen. 

In Oehlenschlager there is an originality, a creative fertility, 
a poetical and dramatic instinct which make him the Shakspeare 
of Denmark. While some passages in his works thrill the 
heart with a terrible power, others soothe and delight with the 
rare, genial tenderness of Chaucer. " Hakon Jarl and his base 
thrall Karker " and " Thora, the fairest of women," with whom 
Longfellow has made us familiar, appear first, not in the " Saga 
of King Olaf," but in "Hakon Jarl," the Danish poet's master 
drama. The heroes of the Edda live again in his wonderful 
"Gods of the North," while his own frank, loving nature, which 
softened even Goethe's proud heart, is reflected in his delineation 
of the character of " Correggio." 


Thorwaldsen has bequeathed to his country a glorious legacy — 
the life-work of a genius. A tall, commanding figure, a massive 
head, a square chin, a broad, kindly mouth, and thoughtful eyes 
deep-set beneath a high brow crowned with slightly waving hair; 
this is the portrait of Denmark's sculptor. His early life was 
simple and without advantages, but his happy disposition and 
wonderful gifts soon enabled him to place himself in an academy 
of design, where he excelled all of his companions and won the 
notice and interest of his teachers. Whatever impressed him 
strongly, whether it was a beautiful face, a description, or a poem, 
was at once put into shape by his busy fingers. The quiet boy 
was always moulding bits of clay or bread into curious forms 
with an ease and dexterity which, in after years, developed into a 
marvelous rapidity of execution. To one who remarked that it 
must be very difficult to produce such works as his, " Ah, sir," he 
said, "either it is nothing, or it is impossible." 

Thorwaldsen lived for his art, and we are told that he gave as 
the date of his birth the day when he first saw Rome and those 
monuments of ancient art, which to him were not new and strange, 
but the realization of his ideal. The loftv grandeur of his con- 
ceptions recall the creations of Phidias, while the fertility of his 
genius is only equaled by that of Michael Angelo. 

His cherished plan was to decorate with his sculpture the 
chinch of Notre-Dame, at Copenhagen. For this purpose he 
modeled the "Angel of Baptism," "Christian Charity," "The 
Twelve Apostles," and the " Christus." These and many other 
statues make Notre-Dame one of the most interesting churches 
in Europe. 

In Italy, Thorwaldsen was recognized as an artist of the first 
order, and thence his fame spread over the world. His country- 
men showed their loving appreciation of the patriotic sculptor, 
by the magnificent Museum erected for his works, by the enthu- 
siasm with which they greeted his return from Rome, and by the 
deep sorrow with which, when at an advanced age he fell asleep, 
king and people bore his body to its resting-place. 

Hans Christian Andersen is the little folks' darling. His style 


is unique and peculiarly the children's own. His writings have 
been translated into all the languages of Europe, besides those of 
China, Japan and Hindoostan; so that children in all parts of 
the globe laugh and weep over his beautiful " Wonder Stories." 
He does not pretend to the highest order of literature, but in that 
which lie has chosen he is without an equal, and his work has 
won for him an enviable reward in the pure love of childish 

This is not the place to discuss the importance of Tycho Brahe's 
works, though around him revolved the scientific and literary stars 
of his time. Nor have we the time to speak of many a noble 
worker of more than national fame. But one there is whose 
name we cannot omit : Heinrich Hertz, known to us through his 
lovely drama, "King Rene's Daughter." 

But why do ive write of Denmark ? Is it our relationship, or 
her wide-spread influence, or her brilliant constellation of geniuses, 
which excites our deep interest in the little country? Surely, any 
one of these is sufficient ; but our interest is aroused by inter- 
course with two of her children, who, though probably unkown 
to the world, add much to the pleasure of our daily life. Our 
Director of Music and his wife never want for eager listeners as 
they tell pleasant stories of their native land and her noble sons; 
as they tell how " Denmark is not as it used to be. There are 
no rocks, no mountains, but there are blue bays, and pretty scenes, 
and all is soft, so soft as the pronunciation." 


[Compositions from the Preparatory Department are published without correction.] 

Once there was a monkey named Jack who lived in a little 
village near the sea and on the outskirts of a great forest. Jack 
had been found by his master (Mr. Brown) one day wmen he was 
walking in the forest, and he (Mr. Brown), who wanted a mon- 

: r 


key very much and there being two or three in the nest he took 
one of them which he named Jack. Jack lived very contentedly 
until one day he took it into his head to go into the forest. So 
off he went as soon as he got a chance, he crept over the back 
fence and found himself in the woods. He had not gone far 
when he heard a voice talking to itself in the tree above him, he 
looked up and saw a monkey seated on the branch above him. 
" Well what are you doing here?" asked the monkey in a very 
cmss tone. " I'm going to seek my fortune," said Jack proudly. 
"Can you tell me where to go?" "Certainly I can," said the 
monkey. " Where?" asked Jack. " Well you live very near the 
sea and I can take you to the beach and then when it's night you 
can steal on board a ship and hide in the hole among the barrels 
and boxes until the ship stops, then you must creep out and if 
you get on the right ship you will be in Europe and there you 
can make your fortune easy enough." " Thank you," said Jack, 
much delighted. " Let us start at once." " Well, come along; 
it's high time we were starting." So thev iourneved on aud on 
until they got to the sea-shore where the monkey led Jack to a 
ship and got him in the hole and then left him. A bell rang 
and the ship started ; first it went slow, then faster and faster, 
until it was way out in the ocean, then the long swell of the 
waves made the ship roll so that for the first time in his life Jack 
began to feel sea-sick. 

After sailing about two or three weeks, during which time 
Jack lived on some sea-biscuit and corned-beef, the ship stopped 
and the sailors came down to unload the ship, and found Jack 
laying asleep on the floor, and carried him up on deck, at which 
he woke. Then the sailor that had found him came forward 
and chained him and took him to his stateroom, where he kept 
him until next day, when he took him on shore and carried him 
to the Zoological Gardens, where he thought he could get a good 
price for him. So he took him to the gates, where a man gave 
him five dollars for him, and Jack was put in a cage with several 
other monkeys. 

The next morning, a man passing through, he heard him tell 


the man who took care of them, that the Albatross would sail 
that day late in the evening. The Albatross was the name of 
the ship on which Jack had come. That day when the man fed 
the monkeys he accidentally left the door unlatched, and Jack 
observing this, when the man's back was turned, crawled out of 
the cage and made the best of his way to the sea-shore where he 
got on the same ship and with it started home. It was late one 
evening when the ship stopped, and then Jack got out and ran into 
the forest, where, after looking a long time found his old friend 
the monkey, who asked him, "Well, how did you like Europe ; 
I suppose you have got your pockets filled with gold I" " No," 
said Jack, " I did not enjoy it at all." And then he told him 
his story. " Well, you have had a time," said the monkey em- 
phatically. " Well, good-bye, I'm going to see my master now." 
Jack's master was very glad to see him for he had mourned him 
as lost. After he had stayed two or three days with his master 
he went off again to the forest, where he married the monkey's 
sister and lived in a big hollow in the w T oods. Sometimes die 
goes to see his master, and is living very contented with his wife 
and children, to whom he sometimes tells of his trip to Europe. 


Dark and gloomy was the last night of our vacation. The 
rain fell in torrents, and we shivered and drew our wraps more 
closely round us as we stepped from the train at the Raleigh sta- 
tion. But few of us, if any, felt downcast. True, the frolick- 
ing season was over, and the dear homes were miles away ; vet 
girlish voices rang out merrily, and bright eyes looked eagerly 
into the darkness for a sight of St. Mary's. At last the "bus" 
entered the grove, and the lights from her many windows streamed 
out across the lawn. A few moments more, and old friends flew 
into each others' arms ; old girls gave new girls kindly welcome; 
every one talked and no one listened, until we were hustled mer- 
rily off to bed, lest a new Babel within should match the new 
flood without. 

In the dormitories we found great changes. The old double 
alcoves have given place to single ones, tiny little dressing-rooms, 
just large enough for a girl to decorate and have for her very own. 
The partitions of buff or light blue stand in pretty contrast to 
the white ceiling above, the white wall beyond, and the bright 
scarlet curtains of the alcove door-ways. The Senior dormitory 
has new gas-fixtures; but those up-stairs have great white ven- 
tilators with pretty red cords, so that each can boast against its 

Stoves are at a discount. In the Preparatory and Kindergar- 
ten departments two shining new Baltimore heaters take the place 
of the old wood-stoves. Pipes lead from them to the parlor, and 
keep the great room warm and serviceable during the cold weather. 
The sitting-room, too, is now heated by register; and, with its 
graceful brass chandelier and tinted walls, it is the prettiest, cozic-t 
little meeting-place in the house. 

The music-room, too, has been beautified ; the floor is nicely 
carpeted, and the music-shelves are concealed by pretty figured 


curtains. Foreign curiosities, tiny bas-reliefs, copies in miniature 
of the works of Thorvvaklsen and other of Denmark's sculptors 
lie upon the table or on the book-shelves, or deck the white walls. 
The "laughing fawn" greets you as you enter. The room is 
always gay with bright leaves and flowers which the busy fingers 
of our Professor's wife are ever weaving around the picture- 
frames, or hanging in pretty bunches over the doors. 

Many a minor improvement meets us from day to day as we 
go about our duties ; and so much has been done to make our 
home pleasant that we were an ungrateful class were we not the 
happiest that ever lived within these walls. 

During Fair-week, besides the usual dust and gaiety, we 
had a concert, the programme of which we give below. Its most 
noticeable features were Hummel's brilliant Concerto, in which 
we heard, for the first time, the beautiful playing of our Leipzig 
scholar, and the singing and elocution of our co-editress and fel- 
low-graduate from Texas. Otherwise this concert was only 
remarkable for being a sort of mushroom growth that arose in 
a day. 

Halloween came in due time with all its train of pleas- 
ures. Everyone, young and old, joined heartily in the fun. The 
happiest of the happy were the little folks ; frolicking and laugh- 
ing, foremost in the many games, and screaming for joy at the 
wonderful toys which a new and curious Punch-Bag showered 
into their arms. To them, it is the merriest night of the year, 
and their elders are well pleased to minister to their delight. 

And now Thanksgiving is at hand, and our little "Muse" 
goes forth with warm greetings to the friends who once trod these 
halls, and who are always glad to hear of old " St. Mary's " and 
all that passes within her doors. If a good beginning makes a 
good ending, the present year should be a happy and a prosperous 
one; and the class of '84 asks your good wishes as it bids you 
" an revoir." 






1. Overture — Der Wassertrager, - 

Misses Sutton, Roberts, Mathewson and Blackmer. 

2. Piano Solo — Arabesque, 

Miss M. A. Dowd. 

3. Vocal Duo — Vieni al mio Sen, - 

Miss Wine and Miss Stone. 

4. Piano Solo — 

) a. Tarantelle, 
\ b. Nocturne, 

Miss Etnilie R. Smedes. 


1. Chorus — Charity, 


Vocal Class, Senior Division. 

T> c , ( a. Nocturne in A Minor, 

Piano Solo — < i ^ ^ , ■ 

{ b. Danse aux lambounns, 







Vocal Solo — The Gypsy Maid, - 

Miss M. B. Watson. 

Piano Solo — Scenes Mignonnes, 

Prof. S. Wiig. 

Selections from "Macbeth," { *«* W'**™*? 2 and 4 ' m , 

' (. Act \ , Scene 1, Shakespeare 

Misses Hagood, McVea, and others. 

Peasants' Wedding March, .... 

Misses Hughes, Roberts, Pittman and Cuningham. 






Miss A. H. Phillips. 

Vocal Solo — An Id Robin Gray, - - - Benedict 

Miss A. M. Hagood. 
Concerto in A Minor, ----- Hummel 

Miss E. H. Smedes — Piano accompaniment by Miss Johnson. 

Vocal Solo — The Angel at the Window, - - Tours 

Miss N. A. Stone. 

Piano Solo — Somite Pathetique, - Beethoven 

Prof. S. Wiig. 

Selection from " Maria Stuart," Act III, - Schiller 

Misses Hagood, Graves, Dowd, and others. 

8. Chorus — The Invitation, 

Vocal Class. 




The past six months have been characterized by events of 
unusual moment, both in the physical and in the political world. 
All the forces of nature seem to have arrayed themselves against 
man. The spring was heralded by the American and German 
floods, and the summer has been as fearfully signalized. On the 
29th of July, the world was horror-struck by the tidings that 
the whole island of Ischia had been desolated by an earthquake. 
The shock lasted scarcely fifteen seconds, but it converted several 
flourishing towns into a debris of houses, trees and animals, 
heaped above a mass of human beings. Private citizens worked 
with almost superhuman energy to release the buried thousands; 
but so inefficient and slow were the Italian police that the work 
progressed little. How greatly the loss of life might have been 
lessened is shown by the fact that a child was found alive after 
six days burial; yet then comparatively few bodies had been 
exhumed. The great explosions in London, which occurred a few 
days since on the Metropolitan Railroad at Praed-Station and at 
Charing-Cross, were followed by such prompt action on the part 
of the well-governed English police, that in one day the ruins 
were cleared away and the victims well cared for. The contrast 
between this activity and the indifference of the Italians is appall- 

This earthquake was followed by another in Java, which, with 
the islands in its vicinity, is the centre of that earthquake belt 
extending from the Kuril e Isles on the north to New Zealand on 
the south. Thirty-eight volcanoes keep Java in perpetual fear, 
and that part of the Pacific is often disturbed by great sea- waves 
caused by explosions under the ocean. The last shock was second 
only to that of Sumbawa in 1815 in severity, and to none in loss 
of life. The military station of Anjer has been buried beneath 
masses of mud, and Tjeringen is one of several coast-towns 
which have been engulfed by the ocean. Aid was sent to the dis- 
tressed people as soon as possible, but "the coast of southern 


Sumatra could not be approached, owing to the dense masses of 
pumice-stone, and the danger from the new banks formed by the 
ashes deposited during the eruption." 

Smyrna is also a mass of ruins. A few days since, at sunrise, 
the whole city began to rock backwards and forwards from its 
foundations. This swaying lasted until eleven o'clock. Then 
the great shock came and in an instant this city, so dear to Chris- 
tians as the see of the martyred Poly carp, was destroyed. Of 
the ancient walls that surrounded it, uot one stone remains upon 

In our own Southern States drought has caused great calamity. 
In some places the crops have been ruined. Elsewhere, land 
which ordinarily produces two hundred bales of cotton, has 
yielded fifty. Wheat and tobacco crops have been in proportion. 
Cyclones, which, although they have no real connection with 
earthquakes, always seem to follow in their wake, have accom- 
plished, in the Western States, a like ruin. Minnesota and Mis- 
souri have lost crops, property, and even lives, through these ter- 
rific visitants, while Illinois has also suffered, but in a less degree. 

Truly nature has this year shown her power in a form intel- 
ligible to the ignorant, and terrifying to a sage. 

The political history of the world, especially that of 
France and England, has proved as interesting as was presaged 
by the events of the winter and spring. 

In addition to the further distraction of national affairs, three 
new and important questions of foreign policy have forced them- 
selves upon France; namely, the establishment of a French pro- 
tectorate in Madagascar, the opening of another canal in the 
Isthmus of Suez, and the annexation of Anam to Cochin-China. 

The trouble with Madagascar, originating early in the spring 
in a hot dispute between France and England as to the respective 
claims of the two nations on the island, has not died out, as was 
hoped, but, on account of the rough stand taken by the French 
soldiery, affairs daily grow more serious. The skirmishes with 
the Hovas increase in number and in fierceness, and the indigr- 


nities offered England are becoming unbearable. Her corre- 
spondence is searched, her officials watched, her missionaries 
imprisoned upon the most trivial charges, and even prevented 
from sending their wives and children out of the war-threatened 
country. We easily understand why France wishes to possess 
Madagascar. Unsurpassed in vegetation, rich in minerals, popu- 
lous and already semi-civilized, the possession of this island would 
heal, in a measure, her wounded pride. She feels bitterly the 
reflections cast upon her Egyptian policy, and the steady decrease 
of her authority among the European states. But, if France is 
determined to subdue Madagascar, the latter is equally deter- 
mined not to be subdued. The young queen, seeing clearly the 
real interests of her country, is resolved, at all hazards, to preserve 
its independence. Being a widow, she is obliged, by the laws of 
her tribe, to retain the husband of the former queen as Prime 
Minister- therefore, the policy of the government will remain the 
same as heretofore. 

The question op opening another canal in the Isthmus is 
entirely commercial, and is as important to England as to France. 
The latter has very unjustly accused England of attempting to 
rob M. de Lesseps of the well-earned glory of having opened the 
first canal, and of using her present influence to prevent the 
Khedive from granting sufficient laud for the second. It is true 
that M. de Lesseps' first plans were opposed by Lord Palmers- 
ton, but the Prime Minister's objections were purely political. 
De Lesseps himself says that nowhere has he been welcomed 
more heartily than in England. Certainly that nation owes him 
the deepest gratitude, for the commerce of both canals must 
eventually fall under her entire control. Her influence with 
Egypt is great, and her commerce with India grows richer daily; 
while Cochin-China is the sole stronghold France possesses in 
Asia.* The- latest negociations have settled the matter seemingly 
to the, satisfaction, of both parties. The same company which 
now» holds the shares of the first canal is authorized to arrange 
plans for. the construction of the second. Under the superintend- 


ence of M. de Lesseps, it will be a safe investment for the share- 
holders, and, in the future, will undoubtedly increase enormously 
the trade between Europe and Asia. 

But BY far the most important question is the annexation of 
Tonquin to Cochin-China. France asserts that her old treaty of 
1874 gives her the ovtrlordship of Tonquin. This the Anamites 
have always denied ; and, ever since the treaty, they have striven 
to drive the French out of their country. These efforts have 
hitherto been unavailing-; but, recently, a band of Anamite depre- 
dators, the Black-Flags, have brought matters to a crisis, aud 
war is imminent. The results of such a war are obvious, if 
China does not extend her aid to Anam. But as this country 
pays her tribute ; as it is the policy of the Celestial Empire to 
maintain a number of dependent kingdoms on her frontiers; and 
as the aggressions of France are most displeasing to her, it is 
probable that she will do so. It is also pretty evident that the 
Black-Flags, who are ravaging and slaughtering the French in 
Tonquin, if not obeying the commands, are at least fulfilling the 
wishes of the Chinese government. It seems almost impossible 
that Frauce will allow herself to be drawn into auother war in 
order to retain her few Asiatic possessions. She has never suc- 
ceeded in colonization. Her people are too well satisfied at home 
to emigrate, and hence her colonies are simply military posts, 
which often bring more trouble than profit. But it is not the 
mere acquisition of territory for which she is now striving, but a 
new speculation too dazzling to be resisted. The river Songkoi 
empties into the Indian Ocean through the Gulf of Tonquin and 
drains the whole country in its passage from the Yunnam moun- 
tains. If this river could be made navigable, Tonquin would 
absorb most of the merchandize now shipped from Canton, Hong 
Kong ami Shanghai. This passage would save a tedious over- 
land journey and considerably shorten the sea-voyage. A large 
portion of the Chinese trade would thus fall 
France. For this reason she is willing to riskjjihe wafcj B R a h 

Matters are now at a stand-still. The MBiister of Foreign 
Affairs states that there has been no open declamekm MAttu'wiHiHC 



China; but that France will hold Tonquin, Hanoi and Hai- 
phong at all costs. The A nam coast, however, has been partially 
blockaded, and an advance has been made in the direction of 
Sontay. Seven thousand French soldiers are in Tonquin, and a 
French fleet, including two iron-clads, is at Hong Kong. The 
Chinese ambassador, the Marquis of Tseng, has carried on the 
negociations in Paris with the usual oriental caution. A treaty 
has been signed by the Prince of Anam, granting all that France 
demands; but it is thought that he is a mere tool of the French, 
and that neither Anam nor China will acknowledge the treaty. 
The Republic should be very certain of succeeding before she 
undertakes this war. Failure would be her death-blow. She 
has already proved herself weak and inefficient. The excitement 
and terror of the Chamber of Deputies and the violent agitation 
of the Exclusion Bill testified to their weakness. The bad man- 
agement of the revenues and the conduct of the government in 
the matter of religion are powerful illustrations of its . ineffi- 
ciency. The death of the Comte de Chambord has doubled, 
perhaps trebled, the Royalists. France cannot support two large 
armies away from home; Madagascar or Cochin-China must be 
resigned. She will resign neither. 

While France is quarreling with England and Germany, 
she is still on the friendliest terms with us. From America she 
got the basis of her present government. In token of the amity 
which has always existed between the two nations, her citizens 
offered us, during our centennial year, a colossal Statue of Lib- 
erty, to be placed at the eutrance of the New York harbor, and 
to serve as a light-house. The statue was undertaken by M. 
Bartholdi, and is now very near its completion. It is in the 
workshop of Gaget, Gauthier and Co., Rue de Chazelles, Paris, 
and crowds of Frenchmen and foreigners are visiting it daily. 
The pedestal on which the goddess stands is thirty feet in 
height, the figure itself being ninety feet. Even the world- 
renowned Colossus at Rhodes was not so gigantic as this great 
chef d'oeuvre of Bartholdi. The statue is of bronze, and is 
made in sections each about two by two-and-a-half feet. These 


pieces are fasted together by copper clasps, of which it is esti- 
mated that there will not be fewer than three millions. The right 
arm holds aloft an enormous torch, the light within which is 
invisible ; but reflectors are so arranged that the ruddy erlow cast 
upon the sky will be visible for many miles. The face is six 
feet in length, and looks rather small in proportion to the body; 
but, when the hair, each curl of which is six inches in diameter, 
is put on, the effect will be fine. The crown is adorned with 
bronze spikes, each nearly six feet in length; and, here will be 
placed the lanterns, the light flashing forth from lenses as if 
from gigantic gems. Xo more acceptable gift, either for utility 
or magnificence, could have been made. M. Bartholdi has spent 
seven years in designing and executing this statue, and it is one 
of the most wonderful works of modern times. The pillar of 
solid masonry is now being erected on Bedloe's island; and, in 
less than eighteen months the whole will probably be completed. 
La Liberte, as she silently guards Xew York harbor, will be the 
pride of our nation and the beacon-light of its seamen. 

The fall, of 1883 has also been an epoch in the history of 
the Church. Nearly one hundred years ago a handful of clergr 
and laymen met in Christ Church, Philadelphia, to form a liturgy 
and elect a Bishop. The Bishop-elect, Dr. Seabury, tried in vain 
to receive consecration at the hands of the English, and was 
finally compelled to go to Scotland. There he was consecrated, 
and immediately returned to the United States to carry on the 
great work of building up the Church in the new Republic. In 
1883 sixty Bishops and several hundred delegates have met in the 
same city to take counsel, concerning the welfare of this church. 
The chief points, which have engrossed their attention, have 
been the enrichment of the liturgy and the increase of mission- 
work. In the consideration of the first question, the Convention 
has shown rare discretion, judgment and patience. The enrich- 
ment of our liturgy will be a great and glorious thing, and the 
church looks forward to the time when the service will be as 
full and complete as can be desired. But the Prayer-Book was 
compiled by good and wise men, and its guardians must think 


long before they can decide upon any change. So the insertion 
of one or two petitions in the Litany, and of the Beatitudes with 
responses, and a few changes in the wording of rubrics and in the 
order of the offices are nearly all the alterations as yet made. The 
next General Convention will complete the work. Meanwhile 
an edition of the Revised Prayer-Book has been ordered for trial 
in the different dioceses. If it be found, by the Convention of 
1886, that this Prayer-Book supplies the need which is felt for a 
fuller liturgy, it will then be adopted. 

The cause of missions has suffered a great loss in the resig- 
nation of Bishop Schereschewsky, on account of ill health. But 
it has also gained something, in that Mexico, which absorbed so 
much money and work, has been dropped from the list of mis- 
sions. Important changes have been made in the north-western 
missionary field. 

The Pastoral letter from the House of Bishops to the dele- 
gates, at the close of the Convention, sets forth in strong 
terms the abuses in the Church and the chief evils with which it 
has to contend ; but ends with encouraging words, exhorting the 
Church that she glory not in her work, but that cheered by its 
success, she shall accomplish yet greater victories. 

One subject long under discussion and of peculiar home 
interest, has been settled. The diocese of North Carolina is 
divided. This measure was passed without difficulty in the lower 
house, but was at first rejected by the Bishops ; and then, on 
request, being submitted to a special committee, the report of that 
body decided the upper house to pass the motion. Even then 
the majority in its favor was only one, the deciding vote being 
cast by our own Bishop. A special convention has been called 
to meet in Newbern on the 12th of December, where the line of 
division will be settled and the new Bishop elected. We wish 
the new diocese all prosperity, but we rejoice that St. Mary's 
remains within the boundaries of the old. 



New York is a wonderful city. One may spend days on a 
single block of Broadway, and find each moment new and pleas- 
ant sights. At Tiffany's you may admire the gorgeous diamonds, 
the soft pearls, or magnificent bronzes. Something new in mod- 
ern art is found here in fine Arab heads of dark bronze, with 
turbans or drapery cut in white marble; and in figures in which 
the parts of the body are colored to represent life — almost a 
reproduction of Byzantine art. 

At Sypher's you will find an ample display of both ancient 
and modern curiosities. Here are Portuguese silks two hundred 
years old, which once hung upon columns in a castle of Florence ; 
tapestry and furniture, also from Florentine castles ; Ghobelin 
tapestries ; the portrait of Catherine of Russia, wrought in the 
same wonderful fabric, bought at the Duke of Hamilton's sale, 
and valued at thirty-six thousand dollars; delicate work in gold 
and glass; Sevres vases, and old Dresden candelabra. Here is 
an exquisite statue of "Nydia." Aside from the touching his- 
tory of its subject, the attitude is so graceful, the look so appeal- 
ing, that all hearts are filled with pity, reading in the blind girl's 
face the story of her loneliness. Great is the praise bestowed 
upon Randolph Rogers for this statue, pronounced the gem of 
Sypher's collection. Another of " Hagar and Ishmael," though 
beautiful in execution, is faulty in expression. The child, ema- 
ciated and dying, hangs over his mother's knee with pathetic 
helplessness; yet in Hagar's face there is no agony, noteven ten- 
derness; nothing but stony coldness. 

These are some of the sights which a " raw school-ffirl " saw 
during the past summer in Xew York, more of which she might, 
in her enthusiasm, here describe. But it would ill become her 
to criticise the world-renowned paintings of Murillo, of Rubens 
and of Titian, or such master-pieces of statuary as Hiram Powers' 
Greek Slave, or Story's Cleopatra; and description would proba- 
bly degenerate into a catalogue. Xor will we say much of Green- 


wood, the peaceful city of the dead, where the slopes are so gentle, 
the terraces so green, the distant city, and the river dotted with 
white-winged boats, so quiet that memory loves to dwell upon 
the picture; nor attempt to tell the beauties of the Hudson, or 
the grandeur of the Palisades, lest our readers weary of the oft- 
told tale. 

But we shall not be accusad of presumption if we speak of one 
marvel, wonder, delusion, what you will — the Siege of Paris! 
This is a tremendous painting, possibly five hundred feet in cir- 
cumference, entirely covering the walls of a circular room built 
for the purpose. Its height is about forty-five feet, and there is 
no break in the painting, no door in the wall. The entrance is 
from below. Ascending a pair of steps, we come out upon a 
spacious round stand at an elevation of some twenty feet, and 
directly in the centre of the room. Our view is apparently 
uninterrupted for many miles, the effect being that of transition 
to some mountain-peak. Looking over the railing, we see at the 
base of this stand, soil, ashes, debris of all kinds, carried out in 
the painting so perfectly, that we cannot tell where nature ends 
and art begins. Hazy mountains rise all around us. Far in the 
distance we see Paris, toward which the Seine flows peacefully. 
There stands Worth's residence on the suburbs of the city. In 
the foreground, groups of soldiers are plotting, or discussing the 
fight raging quite near, while other companies, with cannon 
dragged by mules and horses, hasten to bear them aid, trampling 
in their rude march, horse and rider who have fallen in the road 
or on the field. Here are soldiers tearing down fences, breaking 
into some house. There stand the ruins of houses, already 
demolished by rough barbarism : some burned and still smoking, 
others with windows and doors broken down, and walls crumb- 
ling. As we stood gazing on the scene, three little swallows 
perched on one of the natural trees. This gave us the first 
intimation that the tree was real, for so puzzled are all visitors 
that they fear to designate anything as either natural or artificial. 
After hopping cheerily for some time from bough to bough, away 
the little birds flew for a journey over the mountains; but soon 
returned, amazed, possibly, to find the world so small. 


The new Casino has a remarkable interior. The walls, grace- 
fully moulded in plaster of Paris, are gilded, thus having the 
appearance of gold carving. The ceilings are elaborately deco- 
rated in the same manner, and painted; the seats have a brass 
frame-work and are upholstered in rich green plush; the curtain 
is of the same material, embroidered apparently with jewels. 
The management of the scenery is so perfect that in an instant a 
dark, dingy street vanishes before a magnificent palace. 

In country houses the prevailing style is the " Queen Anne," 
also quite popular in furniture. A very pretty collection of these 
dwellings is on Long Island, near the little village of Amity- 
ville. One in particular, called "Holland Lodge," is as quaint 
as well can be; the occupants are Danes, and still cling to most 
of their old customs. The little house is painted in imitation of 
sunset; rather startling to read of, but in reality exceedingly 

On returning to school, our first thought was naturally of the 
new building. Alas! we found only the foundation laid. Xow 
the beams and rafters are up, but we regret to say that it is not 
sufficiently near completion to be considered under the head of 
Art Notes as a piece of architecture. Our only resource then 
for home art is the recent Fair. In this exhibit we were specially 
interested this year, although we made no display of our own 
work, for we had the honor to send out one of the committee to 
award the prizes. The best collection, as a whole, was that of 
the Charlotte Female Seminary. Some of the most noticeable 
articles were two handsome mantels of slate tiles, several slate 
table-tops, and four very pretty screens. Among the designs for 
the latter, a wall with grape-vines, and a hillside with stalks of 
mullen, were conspicuous. To these was awarded the first prize 
for screens. 

The Greensboro school received the first prize for tea-sets. 
That for tea-plates was won by the Peace Institute. A very 
lovely set this was, representing "The Homes of the Poets," 
and it well merited the honor it gained. We congratulate 
our sister school, and hope she may always prove as successful. 


One of the most striking mirrors on exhibition was also from 
"Peace" — a frame of garnet plush decorated with white lilies. 

Mr. Eugene Harris, of Raleigh, showed some exceedingly 
pretty water-color sketches, and received a prize for a portrait in 

One of the most remarkable pieces of art was a wooden table- 
top decorated with trumpet flowers, by a thirteen-year-old Raleigh 
boy, who has never taken lessons. The little fellow displays 
decided talent. 

Besides these, there were the usual collections of woods, min- 
erals, bugs, butterflies, and Indian relics ; but as none of us are 
very eminent geologists, entomologists, or archaeologists, these did 
not prove intensely interesting. 

In our own studio the holiday work has already begun. Busy 
fingers and loving hearts are designing pretty things for the dear 
ones at home. But as Christmas presents must not be anticipated, 
we will reserve their consideration for our next number. 




Vol. VI. RALEIGH, N. C, FEBRUARY, 1884. No. 2. 



Hunting — Leah McC'lenayhan, Jtin. A 59 

The Story of a Beech-Tree— A Itona F. Gules, Jun. B 64 

Postage-Stamps — Sophia D. Thurmond, Sen. B 66 

A Trip to Louisiana — Helen F. McVea, Jun. C 70 

The Carp-Keeper — Translated from the French of Georg Richard, 

by Anna H. Lewis, Sen. B 77 

Dick, Beauty and Fuzzyball — Bessie W. McLean, Jun. B 81 

About Roses— Margaret F. Busbee, Jun. C 83 

In Memoriam 85 

Editorial — 

That Picture — Emilie R. Smedes 86 

This — Alice M. Hagood 89 

Our Readings — Annie H.Philips 92 

Musical Notes — 

Minnie Hank's Concert — Our Concert — Martha A. Dowd 94 

Rubinstein's "Tower of Babel" — Mario — S. Isabel Graves 98 

Current Topics — 

The Centennial Years— 1883— Emilie W. McVea 101 

Book Notices — Underground Russia — Emilie W. McVea 107 

Art-Notes — Alice M. Hagood 109 




Entered at the Post Office in Raleign at second-class rates. 


Vol. VI. Raleigh, X. C. February, 1884. No. 2. 


My loug-dreamed-of Southern visit was over; aud as the train 
hurried me home, many and marvellous were the tales I pre- 
pared for the dear ones awaiting me. When at last the carriage 
set me down at my own door, scarcely were greetings over, ere 
every member of the family began to clamour wildly for some 
account of my trip. 

"Did a wild boar bite you?" "Did you ride a wild horse?" 
and so on, indefinitely. At last I was allowed to begin. 

When I left you all "Now stop right there! we won't be 

put off with long-winded introductions. We all know perfectly 
well that you arrived safely; that everything, even the ferocious 
yard-dog, was charming; tell about the hunting now, and save 
the rest for hard times." 

"Did you hunt any hare? and if so, are the wonderful Eng- 
lish stories true?" . 

" Why, child, coursing for hare is considered a most inelegant 
sport, fit only for bare-legged urchins and their ugly curs." 

"Well, tell us about the 'possums and 'coons." 

Of course we did not whoop and shriek through the forest at 
midnight to shake a grinning 'possum from a persimmon tree, 
or pull a poor 'coon from his "gum-stump." This branch of 
hunting is reserved for the old Daddies and Mammies, and the 
tales they tell of " Bro. Possum" and "Bro. Coon" are truly 

"I am rather afraid to question your high mightiness any 
more. Hut say, did you ever deign to hunt foxes?" 

Yes, indeed! I don't think that I shall ever enjoy anything 
so much as I did my first fox-chase. 


Late in the afternoon of a cool August clay, as we sat in the 
open balcony, one of our neighbor's laborers rode up, and, hav- 
ing given the rude but hearty salutation of a country negro, said, 
"De Colonel say, sah, dat dera foxes is at it agin; and he dis 
told me to say, as how he'd be oncommon glad if you'd gie him 
a lift in clearin' out de ugly varmints." Then, with a jolly 
"Good-night ter yer, Boss," he turned his donkey's head and 
cantered homeward. 

Before dawn next day, a thundering knock on my door was 
followed by "Get up! get up! you lazy bones, for the fox forsakes 
his den." A few moments sufficed to throw on the light dress 
suited for a race over ditches and fences and through tangled 
vines. Outside we found the horses rearing and curveting; in 
their impatience for the coming fun. "Time flies," said the 
warning voice of an old hunter: then we flew over the frosty 
road. The sun was not up when we joined the Colonel and his 
tenants, and scarcely stopping for a hasty 'how d'ye/ plunged 
into the woods. The restless fox-hounds were unleashed, and 
soon their answering cries told that a trail had been started. 
Spurring our horses into a sweeping gallop, we tried to keep up 
with our faithful guides. Well, Reynard knew that the dogs 
could trail only on the ground; so he often leaped along a chain 
of logs, and then jumped into a hollow to lie there grinning while 
the dogs ranted furiously. When he saw his enemies at a safe 
distance, out he came in their very sight, gave them a most pat- 
ronizing glance, gaily hoisted his brush, and cantered off, saying 
by actions louder than by any words, "Catch me if you can." 
The infuriated dogs, with foaming mouths and clenched teeth, 
rushed to the charge with fresh zeal. Four hours we had pushed 
on, when the peculiar baying of the dogs announced that the fox 
had broken. He came in full view slowly, slowly dragging his 
wearied limbs and summoning; all his cunning; for one last effort. 
By a sudden manoeuvre, he left the woods and bounded into the 
open. Now came the most exciting part. Over the field we 
flew, the victim in full sight, the hounds close on his heels. 
Sweeping round a curve, we came upon an immense flock of 


sheep; and swift as lightning the fox shot forward, leaving us 
far in the rear; the next instant he was hidden in the flock. 
The terrified animals closed in a compact body, and Reynard, 
safe in their midst, began to feel very merry over his good for- 
tune and our disappointment. Meantime, the dogs worried the 
flock on every side. Then Reynard, seeing a convenient fence, 
and thinking the way clear, took this as a good time to bid his 
importunate friends adieu. Alas, for him! a few of them were 
as sharp as himself, and had quietly seated themselves on the 
other side of the fence to await his pleasure. Knowledge came 
too late; the fatal leap was taken, and Reynard landed safely on 
the top rail. His blood-thirsty enemies at once surrounded both 
sides, a leap either way would be "into the jaws of death." 
There he sat, grinning and sputtering, a most contemptible object. 
Just then a young hound bounded up and picked him off. Down 
he fell. Each dog seized and shook him until every joint cracked. 
Then they withdrew to a little distance, where, seated on their 
haunches, they eyed their victim with undisguised satisfaction. 
The handsome brush being by common consent presented to a 
daring young huntress, the men raised their horns and sounded 
a triumphant blast. Then we all rode merrily home. 

A week later the deer law ran out, and all hands made ready 
for the great drive on the following day. 

, Before seven o'clock we were in the dense forest, at a spot 
which, as an old hunter expressed it, "smacked of deer." Here, 
we were ordered to part company, each to seek some point whence 
the fleeing deer might be cut off from the river. 

I had waited at my post for an hour, when the quick tramp- 
ling of hoofs told me my companions were riding fast towards 
that part of the wood. Then my horse plunged madly into the 
brush-wood to follow the dogs. The next instant he stopped 
with a quick wheel to the left. Xot a sound was to be heard. 
As if by magic, the green leaves parted, and a majestic stag 
sprang through the opening. With trembling hand, I levelled 
my rifle; the large liquid eyes met mine. That speechless prayer 
few can resist. The gun dropped harmlessly, and the noble stag 


disappeared. But lie was not to escape, for a score of hungry, 
merciless hounds were upon his track. Looking up, I beheld 
the dogs in full cry on the hot trail, while a little behind them 
came a number of hunters. They swept by, taking care, how- 
ever, to cast on me a glance of withering scorn. Urging my 
horse, I joined them. A few moments and the deer was at bay. 
The noble and beautiful animal turned defiantly on his adver- 
saries; the thirsty blood-hounds sprang at him in every direc- 
tion, each madly contending for the throat, where at one draught 
the life-blood might be drained. A cool driver stepped forward, 
deliberately covered the brain, and tired. For a second, the great, 
eloquent eyes looked unutterable sorrow and reproach, two tears 
rolled down the innocent face, the lofty antlers were lowered, and 
with a groan, the proud stag sank dead before us. A short time 
sufficed for the fortunate sportsmen tp secure the antlers, and 
nightfall saw us at home, somewhat less buoyant than in the 
morning; but a good night's rest prepared us to discuss the chase 
over venison steak. ******* 

At this point, the boys seemed very much amused about some- 
thing. I, poor innocent, flattered myself that it was my story, 
and gladly obeyed their vigorous commands to proceed. 

* * Hardly had our deer-drive ceased to give pleasant mat- 
ter for conversation, when one of the younger members of the fam- 
ily returned from a fishing excursion, and chanced to remark that 
otters must be very abundant this year, because of the number 
of new houses on the river banks. So our next hunt was for 
otters. One evening towards dusk, we walked to a beautiful 
little creek on the plantation, where we found several canoes 
moored in the miniature harbor. These were soon unchained, 
and we glided over the pond, the oars occasionally dipping lazily 
into the water. All at once a new element seemed moving round 
us; the skiff danced merrily down the swift current; large fish 
flirted into the air, and we were in the broad, dark river. The 
harvest moon rose clear and glorious, driving the shadows fur- 
ther and further before her brilliant light. The banks were 
lined with forests, whose depths the imagination might easily 


people with satyrs, gnomes and fairies. Once I almost fancied 
that I caught a glimpse of Diana's crescent, as she wound among 
the shadows, attended by her huntress train. Then my fancy 
wandered to the depths below, where the mermaids wreathed 
their golden tresses, or floated through the crystal palaces, chant- 
ing low melodies and gathering rare gems. Presently a steep 
cliff' loomed up in the distance. At first it seemed bare, but, as 
we drew near, small, dark forms might be seen moving to and 
fro. We rowed under the cliff with muffled oars. At a signal, 
the men who had been sent round with the dogs, turned them 
loose, and they rushed up the bank. The otters, thus disturbed 
in their festival, scattered in all directions; some escaped, but 
most of them jumped into the water below. As each otter fell 
into the water, a canoe marked him as a victim. Now an otter 
swims like a fish; but, like the whale, he must come to the sur- 
face for air. As soon as one had fallen near us, we darted after 
him; the boat skimmed along as if instinct with life, around, 
across, from side to side, ever following the unmistakable train 
of bubbles. Shots grazed the water harmlessly in every direc- 
tion, but at last a faint streak of blood tinged the waters, and 
the body floated on the current. Only three other canoes were 
successful; the rest, through carelessness or inexperience, had 
lost their game. With our prize, we rowed home through the 
moonlight, watching the otters gather again, as joyous as though 
their lost friends had never been * * * 

— Well, that is about all, boys, and, I added, were I a fairy, I 
would wish each of you a South Carolina hunt. 

To my surprise and indignation, the horrid boys burst into 
peals of laughter. With glowing cheeks, I demanded the cause 
of their rudeness, and when, after many fruitless attempts, one 
of them was able to speak, he burst out, "Oh, nothing! only it's 
too funny to hear you tell of enjoying such things. Don't you 
remember just two years ago, because we wanted to kill a ferret 
in the barn, you warned mother that she was raising up a lot of 
cruel, barbarous sons'?" 

"And then," spoke up another, " who always abused the Eng- 


lish chase, as a base, ignoble institution? My eyes! can you 
conceive the fact, that were this same person a fairy to-day, she 
would encourage, nay, bid us follow, the cruel chase?" 

Vainly I tried to speak, to explain that I had seen the chase 
as it is, not as some English stories make it out to be; that what 
I gloried in was not a butchering of preserved animals, but a 
noble and fair pursuit of free game. But no, they would hear 
nothing. They had had their revenge, and they scampered off, 
leaving me to cool my wrath at leisure. 


Once upon a time, some children gathered the beech-nuts that' 
had fallen to the ground in the forest, and carried them home to 
their parents to feed the pigs. The parents were poor, and the 
pigs had to be taken good care of; for when they were big and 
fat enough to be sold in market, the money that was paid for 
them went towards schooling and clothing the children. 

This is why one little seed left behind in the forest, lying by 
itself upon a little bed of moss, cried and lamented to the moon, 
which w r as just rising above the trees: "Here I am, left all 
alone, forgotten, uncared for, and of no use to anybody, while 
hundreds of my brothers and sisters have gone to do their proper 
duty in the world." 

The moon stared, but answered nothing. 

"And what may thy duty be?" asked a glow-worm, who shone 
like a fallen star in the moss close by where the beech-nut lay. 

"To fatten pigs in Mike Timbertoe's sty." 

"Surely the loss of such a mission as that is not one that you 
need grumble at," returned the glow-worm, a little shocked 
at the vulgar taste of his neighbor; "there are plenty of higher 
things to be done in the world than feeding swine." 


The beech-nut did not know of them, if there were, and it 
supposed it had lost its only chance of being useful. 

All through the night, while the moon rose and set and the 
stars marched solemnly across the sky, it pined fretfully, saying 
that it need never have been made, since now it would have to 
die down under the grass, and none of the people in the great 
world be any the better off for it, or even know of its existence. 

The night passed and the morning came. The sun rose high 
in the heavens and sent a ray of light through the leaves of the 
trees to comfort the little beech-nut. But the beech-nut had 
made up its mind to be miserable, and would not ba comforted. 

From a branch which waved in the soft air, just above the 
moss on which the beech-nut lay, a little bird sang a sweet song 
of praise and love to its Maker. But the beech-nut heard no 
melody in the song, it did not catch one note of the praise. 

Another night came and another morning followed, and then 
another and another, and many others. Autumn winds whistled 
through the woods, and the leaves turned yellow and crimson, 
then brown, and rustled down from the branches on which thev 
had danced so airily the long summer through, covering the 
green grass with a browu carpet, and quite hiding the beech-nut 
from view. Then rains fell, soaking through the leaves and 
washing the beech-nut down into the earth, where all was dark 
and cold. If it had grumbled before, when it was above the 
earth, and could see the blue sky and be touched by the sun- 
beams, it grumbled more than ever now. And yet it was not 
altogether out of the reach of sunbeams, although it could not 
see them and did not know this. Next a hard frost bound the 
earth like iron, and then a deep snow fell, gradually melting 
and sinking into the earth. At length the little beech-nut was 
touched and began to grow softer; it felt a strange mysterious 
bower all through it, a quiver of some wonderful new life 
which thrilled it to the heart. 

More long days of darkness and silence, but the little beech-nut 
had ceased to grumble now; there were possibilities awakening in 
it. What could they mean? After long waiting and quiet hoping, 


one morning it felt a warm touch, and, looking up, once more saw 
the sun in the heavens and all the wide forest trembling into green- 
ness. What could it mean? The beech-nut was completely puz- 
zled for many days, but by questioning one after another of the 
forest things, and taking counsel of the great sun, it began to 
apprehend the wonderful fact that it had died as a beech-nut 
and it was beginning a new life as a tree. Out of the leaf- 
strewn ground it, or the little soul within it, had arisen with 
two tiny folded wings which by and by should expand and lift 
its head to a level with the giants of the forest. Then some- 
thing like shame and repentance covered the little plant with a 
silver dew, its nearest approach to tears, as it asked itself, 
" Where are all my brethren now, whose different lot I so 
thoughtlessly envied?" 

Long after the pigs had been fattened, sold, killed, and for- 
gotten, the beech-tree lived in the forest, and taught the lesson 
it had learned to all that had ears to hear and hearts to under- 


We can send fifty letters for a dollar now, instead of thirty- 
three. And there are only two cents to be paid on the tantal- 
izing, troublesome due-letters — would that their number were 
lessened as well as their cost! Surely, stamps are not such insig- 
nificant things after all, since the reduction of postage has created 
such a jubilee. 

Two cents will carry a letter to any part of the United States 
or Canada. Since the grand postal union in 1874, we can send a 
letter to almost any part of the world for five cents. Some day we 
may have to pay only one cent on local letters, and who knows 
but that the postals may not, after a while, be half a cent? 

In Great Britain, more is given for the penny postage than 
for our two cents, as the letters are always delivered, even in the 

ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 67 

country, while we have this convenience only in our largest cities. 
England's postage to her colonies is dearer than ours to foreign 
lands. Letter-postage in France is fifteen centimes, just our for- 
mer postage, but the letters are delivered. Switzerland is cele- 
brated for the perfection of her postal system, which includes 
delivery to the smallest hamlets, and for a cheapness of postage 
greater than that of England, being five centimes in the canton, 
and ten from one canton to another. 

The wonder is that stamps were not invented sooner. They 
have been in use only since 1840, and that in England. We 
had none in the United States until 1842, and they were local, 
acknowledged by the government, but issued by the postmasters 
and express companies. To be sure, in ancient times there were 
few who could write letters. Lines of state couriers existed at a 
very early date, but private epistles had to be trusted to slaves 
or to chance opportunities. The Peruvian Incas had a line of 
fleet-footed runners from Quito to Cuzco. The monarch's com- 
mands were in the character writing called quipv, consisting of 
cords knotted around the waist of the messenger. In the twelfth 
century the University of Paris sent out a number of pedestrian 
couriers, who carried to all parts of Europe letters from the 
scholars asking money to pursue their studies. As late as Eliza- 
beth's reign, private letters were conveyed chiefly by cattle- 
drovers. James I. organized the first postal system of Great 
Britain, but it was extremely unsatisfactory in comparison with 
that of to-day. At first the letters were carried by mounted 
postmen, later by stage-coaches, and the mails were few and far 
between. The expensive rates formed another serious considera- 
tion, and people contrived all sorts of ways to avoid payment, 
mainly by the abuse of the franking system, which allowed let- 
ters to be sent free of charge to and from members of Parlia- 
ment. As they could receive as many as fifteen letters a day, 
this gave them an opportunity of helping their friends that was 
not lost. There is a touching story told of a woman who once 
would not take a Utter brought by the postman because it cost 


a shilling, which she could not afford to pay. The kind post- 
man, feeling sorry for her, paid the shilling himself; but when he 
gave her the letter she said she did not want it because there was 
nothing in it. The envelope was addressed in her brother's 
handwriting, and she knew it was empty because she and her 
brother had agreed upon this as a sign that he was well. 

The present system of postage was proposed by Rowland Hill, 
in 1837, and it went into operation under his supervision. Like 
all great reforms, it met with opposition. One of the arguments 
against the reduction of the rates was, that the post-offices would 
be full to overflowing with letters, the fact that this would be to 
the advantage of the government being wholly ignored. The de- 
crease of the revenue at first seemed to endorse this, but the wis- 
dom of the institution has ultimately been proved by the more 
than doubling of the profit. 

Our first general issue of stamps was in 1 847, and consisted of 
two kinds, one for five cents and the other for ten cents. In 
1851 the number was increased to eight, including one, three, 
five, ten, twelve, twenty-four, thirty, and ninety-cent stamps. 
Since then several sets have appeared, with radical changes in 
design, color, value and number. Eight varieties are in common 
use now; that is, exclusive of the old two-cent stamp, which will 
soon be gone, all unpaid letter stamps, envelope, and newspaper- 
wrapper stamps. The United States has issued more stamps 
than has any other country. Great Britain has had eighty-two, 
France eighty, while we have had at least one hundred and 
sixty-five, and of these, one hundred and twenty-seven have been 
in use at one time. 

There are now few non-stamp-issuing countries. Hayti did 
not begin till 1881. China still has no stamps, except those 
issued by foreign post-offices established there since 1878. 

The first stamp was an envelope stamp, covering more than 
half the envelope, with an allegorical design representing Britan- 
nia sending letters to all parts of the earth. The first adhesive 


stamp consisted of a profile of the Queen, with the word " post- 
age " above and the value below. 

Brazil, who followed next, in 1843, thought that blackening 
the sovereign's picture in cancellation was disloyal, therefore, she 
placed a large numeral in the centre, like our due stamps; but 
she has since substituted the head of the Emperor. Some coun- 
tries, as Russia and Peru, put their national arms on their stamps. 

But can we, in an article on stamps, fail to mention the stamp- 
collector's science, "Philately?" Most people think it the height 
of folly, "a delusion, and a snare." Well, let them think so, if 
they please. It does not pretend to anything grand. It is sim- 
ply the love of something old and curious, and quite as useful as 
collecting warming-pans, or going into raptures over fifteenth 
century velvet. It is better than collecting advertisement cards, 
because it concerns itself with nations, while they have to do with 
shops. The British Museum does not scorn to collect stamps, 
and it has nearly twenty thousand. "When it comes to buying 
old stamps to paper one's walls with, it may be time to story. 

Philatelv is more like Numismatics than like anything else, 
although not of such antiquity and not so interesting. Stamps 
are too perishable to stand the wear and tear of ages through 
which coins have gone; nor is it likely that they will ever be of 
such historic significance. No issue of stamps, however remarka- 
ble, can be so odd as the iron money of Lycurgus, or the oyster- 
shell currency of William the Testy. 

The tales about receiving $500 for a million of old stamps 
seem absurd; but a friend of mine says she knows of a person 
who did really receive that sum. What is done with these 
stamps, I know not, though I have heard they are sent to China 
to be made into a certain kind of paper, the name of which has 
escaped me — perhaps papier-mache. According to another story, 
the Chinese make a beautiful dye from the three-cent stamps. 

Many people think that a fraud is practiced on the govern- 
ment by cleaning and reissuing old stamps. Be this as it may, 
I do know that the sale of stamps has been made the means of 
missionary and charitable work, both at home and abroad. There 


is an orphan-asylum* at Jerusalem, which is partly supported in 
this manner; and the best proof that the stamps are bought for 
no fraudulent purpose, is that those no longer issued are most 


I was not seven years old when I left Louisiana, but I remem- 
bered well my home and friends, and as year's passed away I 
longed more and more to return to visit them. Four years 
passed before my longings were realized. Early in January, 
1882, my mother received a letter from my uncle, inviting us, — 
mamma, my little sister, and me, — to spend the winter with him 
in Baton Rouge. To my great delight, mamma accepted the 
invitation, and decided to leave Raleigh the 1st of February. 
The three weeks intervening were spent by mamma in quiet, 
thoughtful preparation ; by me, in a state of intense excitement, 
bordering on the unruly. I could scarcely eat or sleep, and to 
study was impossible. One of the principal ingredients in my 
cup of joy was the thought of the three months' holiday I should 
have. It seemed too much happiness to be realized, and I was 
in daily dread lest something should happen to prevent our 
going. Oh! how slowly those weeks did pass! But the last 
day of January came and all was ready for our departure on the 
morrow. On the first day of February I woke to find the rain 
falling in torrents, the wind blowing a gale, and the cold intense. 
I looked at mamma in dismay, but was reassured by her smile 
and cheerful: "Get up, dear, and dress at once, for we have no 
time to lose." So the rain, the wind, and the cold did not keep 
us back. Two young ladies, whose home was in Texas, were to 
accompany us. During the morning the storm ceased, but it 

*If any of my readers would like to learn more of this asylum in order to collect stamps 
for it, descriptive pamphlets will be gladly sent. 


was bitter cold. At three the carriage came, and our party of 
five drove through the slushy streets to the station, and were soon 
on the train aud under way. For the first time in three weeks, 
I felt secure, and as happy as a little mortal could feel. At night 
we reached Greensboro, where we took a sleeper. It was great 
fun actually to go to bed on the train. My little sister and I 
were soon rocked to sleep by the soothing motion. We awoke 
with the sunrise, to find ourselves two hundred miles from 
Greensboro. While I had been sleeping so sweetly and dream- 
ing pleasant dreams of my far-off home, we had been almost 
flying through space, rapidly nearing the beloved spot. After 
dressing and having our sleeping quarters put in order, we 
spread our table, and ate an appetizing breakfast from the capa- 
cious lunch-basket so carefully prepared for us by our cousin at 
St. Marv's. 

During the day I was fully entertained by watching the pas- 
sengers. They were of all kinds and classes, from the delicate, 
dainty young lady to the rough, but honest country folk. I was 
greatly amused by the experience of one of this latter class. 
He was a hard-working farmer, with bronzed face and rough 
hands, clad in a substantial suit of home-spuu, but his counte- 
nance was cheerful and kindly. He called my little sister to 
him, petted her and talked to her, and then turned to mamma and 
said, " I am awfully fond of children, but once on a time I 
came mighty nigh having too much of them, and this is how it 
was: AVife had twins, a boy and a girl. Well, at first I was 
the proudest father you ever saw, and was sure everybody envied 
me my twins; but after a little, wife was so worried and worn 
out with those twins, especially of nights, that she got real pale 
and thin, and I got scared about her, and cast about in my mind 
what I could do to help matters a little. The boy was a fine, 
likely fellow, but awful cross ; the girl was funny and more quiet 
like. So I said to wife: Wife, says I, that boy is too much for 
me; I'll let you manage him, and I'll take the girl of nights. 
So wife, she fixed me up a bottle, she kept the boy and I took 
my girl. Well, I tell you I was mighty nigh givin' up the very 


first week ; but when I looked at wife and saw how pale and 
tired 1 she looked, I plucked up courage and tugged bravely on 
with my little girl. 'Twan't no easy matter neither, gettin' up 
of a night warmin' that milk, feed in' that baby, and rockin' her 
back to sleep two and three times a night. I began to look upon 
wife as a sort of wonder, to think of her havin' gone through all 
this with half a dozen children before, while I was sleepiu' qui- 
etly and takin' my ease. I tell you, I felt awful remorseful for 
the many times I had been cross and impatient with wife, 
not knowin' how tired and worn out she was, and from that day 
to this I have never faulted her. Well, as I was sayin', I tug- 
ged on with the little one until she was nigh on to a year old, 
when I joyfully handed her over to her mother, thankin' my 
stars that my profession was'nt the raisin' of babies. You may'nt 
believe me, but it's a fact that that there little funny baby that 
nigh 'bout worrited me to death has grown up to be as fine and 
likely a young girl as you would wish to see; beats the lad all to 
smashes." Just then the cars whistled and the man was hustled 
off .the train. One deaf old lady with innumerable boxes and 
bundles came very near being left herself, and did leave several 
of her packages. In spite of her deafness, this old lady had 
been very talkative. She had informed us that she was going to 
see her daughter whom she had not seen for eight years. She 
had a host of grandchildren, likely boys and girls, the most of 
whom she had never seen. The various boxes and packages 
contained a lot of dolls and toys which were to expedite their 
acquaintance, and we could not but sympathize with the dear 
old lady when she should discover the loss of her missing toys. 
One quite pretty but very silly school-miss, attended by an 
adoring cousin of the masculine gender, evidently thought that 
all eyes and attention were upon her; and the airs she put on, and 
the stream of foolish talk she poured forth, were simply dis- 

We had an unusually long trip, for, missing connection at 
Atlanta, we also missed the N. O. train at Montgomery. Sat- 
urday morning found us at the Gulf. When the train crossed 


the bridges near New Orleans we were surrounded by water on 
either side, and it looked as if we were crossing the ocean. We 
did not reach New Orleans until seven Saturday morning. Here 
we parted with our Texas friends. 

We went to a hotel, rested and refreshed ourselves, and then 
sallied out to see the city, going first to Canal Street, on which 
are the principal stores. The toy shops and fruit stores are par- 
ticularly attractive ; the latter being unsurpassed for variety and 
artistic arrangement. We especially enjoyed the beautiful Japa- 
nese store, which displays every variety of curiosity. Canal is 
a very broad street, with a car-track in the centre. New Orleans 
has more street-cars for its size than any other city in the Union, 
and they all start from Canal Street, diverging in every direction, 
so that for many squares this track is lined with cars of different 
colors — green, red, white, blue, black. The color indicates the 
direction in which the car is to go; so that if you are acquainted 
with the phraseology, to tell you to take a blue, red or green car, 
is to give you full directions. In the centre of Canal Street, 
which runs from east to west, is a fine bronze statue of Henry 
Clay. One of the handsomest public buildings in New Orleans 
is its immense Custom-House. The French market is also a place 
of great interest to visitors. It is large, and besides its stalls for 
meat, fish, vegetables, and fruit, there are numerous bazaars for 
the sale of every variety of dry goods. The city is divided into 
two distinct parts. Below Canal Street is the French portion. 
Some of the old Creole residents have lived and died without 
even seeing the American portion. There are not many hand- 
some residences in the French quarter. With two or three 
exceptions the streets are narrow and dirty, the houses old-fash- 
ioned, and of oue story. Mamma took us to see our grandfather's 

y J CD 

house in which he lived fifty-five years ago and where she was 
born. It is a quaint old Spanish-built house in the lower, or 
French, quarter of the city, and has curious dormer-windows. 
The large wooden doors are lined with sheet-iron, and the win- 
dows protected by iron bars from top to bottom. It look- very 
jail-like and gloomy, but mamma said she had spent a happy 


childhood there with our dear old grandfather, who always 
called the house Alhambra, Spanish for the house or home. 

At five o'clock Saturday evening we took the steam-packet for 
Baton Rouge. These steam-packets are immense, and most ele- 
gant in their appointments. We had a capital supper, and en- 
joyed our night's rest on the luxurious beds. There were some 
nice people on board, and it was pleasant to sit on the guards and 
watch the sparkling waters of the great river. All along the 
banks (or coast, as it is called in Louisiana) are fine sugar plan- 
tations and handsome residences. At many of these the boat 
lands to put off or take on passengers or freight. At ten A. m. 
we reached Baton Rouge. 

Baton Rouge, situated on the left bank of the Mississippi, one 
hundred and twenty-five miles above New Orleans is a town, or 
city, as it is more ostentatiously termed, of about eight thousand 
inhabitants. Being the capital, it has much intercourse with all 
sections of the state ; and during the session of the legislature, 
is crowded with visitors, and very gay. The Capitol, or State 
House, with its towers and turrets, looks like an old feudal cas- 
tle. It is on a hill near the river; the grounds are terraced to 
the water's edge ! and, as you ascend the river and approach the 
city, the building presents an imposing appearance. Within the 
grounds is a small, artificial lake, and in the transparent waters 
are numbers of gold-fish. Several beautiful fawns graze near 
the lake, and are so tame that they feed from your hand. 

The Penitentiary, the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, and the State 
University, are the principal public institutions. Much of the 
population of Baton Rouge is French and Spanish, but the lat- 
ter are entirely among the lower class, and are called Dagos. 
They make their living by selling fruit, which they carry in 
large baskets from house to house, and their cry of "bananas, 
oranges," is heard at all hours, Sundays not excepted. Owing 
to the French element in the population, the Roman Catholic is 
the predominant religion, and as is usual in Roman Catholic 
countries, Sunday is the liveliest day of the week. The streets 


are crowded with people from the surrounding country, traffick- 
ing aud joking with one another, entirelv forgetful of the sacred- 
ness of the day. 

My uncle's house is a neat, commodious cottage in the suburbs, 
with a pretty flower-garden in front, and spacious grounds in the 
rear, where we children romped aud played to our hearts' content. 
Oh, what fun we did have craw-fishing in the pond nearby! 
Each noon would find us sallying forth, with our broad-brim- 
med hats and large buckets, all equipped for a battle with the 
craw-fish. Generally we returned with our buckets full and in 
buoyant spirits, eager for dinner, with its delicious gumbo, pecu- 
liar to Louisiana. Sometimes we came back with empty buckets, 
tired and worn out, declaring that we would never go craw-fishing 

Another recreation was our walks on the banks of the river, 
where we watched the boats, loaded down to the water's edge, 
come puffing along like great, living things. At night, with 
their fires and many-colored balls of light, these boats are gor- 
geous, f 

We enjoyed intensely, a trip to New" Orleans to see the "Mar- 
di-Gras." This year the morning procession was a burlesque on 
the fashionable customs and follies of the day; the night proces- 
sion was a presentation of the various worships of the world. 
But I will not attempt a description, for the pageant was so gor- 
geous, the sights and crowds so bewildering, that I was fairly 
dazed and could not take in what I saw. We were in Xew 
Orleans three days, walking, riding, and visiting old friends. 
Then followed a month of idle happiness in Baton Rouge; then 
a visit to our relatives in East Feliciana. 

My brother lives on a cotton plantation, four miles from Port 
Hudson. He has four interesting children. The youngest, a 
chubby little fellow of two years, is the pet and pride of the 
family: he is the most original little child I ever saw. Once, 
when he was asked where he got such big legs, he replied, 
demurely, "Tommy growed 'em, in course." During our visit, 
there was a family reunion at Tommy's house, and the little man 


was, for a time, bewildered by the sight of two grandmas and 
two cousin Marys. He looked in perplexity from one to the 
other, but suddenly his little face brightened, and he exclaimed, 
"Two times grandma, two times Mary." 

We spent several days in this country home, and roamed at 
our will all over the place, visiting the gin-house and the negroes 
in their quarters, many of whom had been our slaves, and were 
overpowering in their expressions of endearment and happiness 
in seeing "Massa's chillen once more." 

My sister lives in our old home in Clinton, La. It was great 
happiness to be with her and her dear children, to see the friends 
who knew me in my babyhood, to visit every nook and corner 
of the house, the yard, the garden, and to recall the childish 
pleasures I had so often enjoyed; but, with all this, there was 
mingled a feeling of sadness and regret, that I must so soon sav 
good-bye to all, and leave the dear old home, not knowing when 
I should return. 

On the 25th of April we took the train for Raleigh. The 
only connection missed was at Charlotte, N. C. There we had 
to wait several hours, and" thus we had an opportunity of riding 
around and seeing that cheerful, attractive little city, which I 
think compares favorably with Raleigh. As before, we enjoyed 
our two days on the train, seeing and hearing the passengers, 
looking at the country, towns, and cities through which we passed ; 
and again the lunch-basket proved a never failing source of 

We landed at St. Mary's on Saturday at seven a. m., and 
there we have anchored ever since. 




Near the sacred river which flows at the foot of Fousi Yama 
(the rose mountain), a Carp-Keeper used to play his flute in the 
brightening mists of the morning. In Japan, carps are raised 
with care in the sacred river. Thev live in schools, which the 
keeper guides by the sound of his flute, as the Basques of the 
Pyrenees lead their goats. In the evening, upon a signal, the 
fish return into tanks made of porcelain tiles, where they are 
sheltered from fisher-birds and beasts of prey. 

Toiki, the keeper, lived not far from the river, in a house of 
bamboo, lighted through panes of rice-paper, which were slipped 
back while the sun shone. Upon the earth-covered roof blos- 
somed bunches of blue lilies; behind the house stretched a 
thicket of common bamboos; before its door were crowded beds 
of camelias and azalias. 

Toiki's father was an old soldier, who had been present at the 
Hara Kiri of the last Shogun. Faithful to the custom of old 
Japanese warriors, he had had tatooed over his body the princi- 
pal episodes of his campaign. Upon his breast could be seen the 
battle fought by Taiko-Sama, and between his shoulders, the 
massacre of the Samourai. All day long the old man sat at the 
threshold of his home upon a lacquer stool, smoking a little 
pipe with a bronze bowl. As for Toiki, he walked along the 
river-bank, playing over and over again the airs which charmed 
his charge. He played, and the gold-fish assembled at the sound 
of his flute. Thus he led them along the windings of the river, 
among tufts of reeds and saxifrage avoided by the loner-legged 
storks. The carps fluttered their fins and rose from time to time 
to the surface of the water, to catch there the little blue flies. 

And the keeper walked until the hour of rest. When the 
summit of Fousi Yama took on the burning tints of copper, 
and the sunset gong was heard in the distance, Toiki retraced 


his steps, and his docile flock descended again the river to the 
tank, which they entered to a slow and rhythmic melody. 

Down to this sacred river, the little princess, Idzouna, daugh- 
ter of the governor, often came to play — arriving in a lacquer 
palanquin borne by two slaves. 

Idzouna, who had just reached her eleventh year, had the col- 
oring of the lotus. Her hair was held up by large pins of 
carved shell; her lips were stained with gold and carmine; her 
eyes were darkened by the juice of flowers. She was clothed in 
a long, silken robe, crossed upon her breast, and embroidered 
with fantastic birds; a sash of brilliant colors was turned about 
her waist, forming behind a bow like the two wings of a but- 

She used to sit down by the river, take off her ivory sandals 
and let her little bare feet splash the surface of the water. 

She liked to hear Toiki play the flute. "Little keeper," she would 
say, " my father had two Bengali singing-birds brought from 
India for me; they sing divinely, but I prefer the sounds which 
your lips draw from the bamboo." And the keeper would play 
near Idzouna, that the fish might gather before her. Sometimes 
the little princess accompanied him with her samsin, a sort of 
guitar with three silken strings, which she played with a plec- 
trum of shell. 

To Toiki, nothing equalled the sacred river. He saw in it 
marvellous things, which he pointed out for the admiration of 
Idzouna. The water, blue as a turquoise, had depths of heavenly 
clearness, where little creatures sparkled in luminous points like 
a shower of pearls which vanished in the air; and the scales of 
the gold-fish would appear in a dazzling rift. 

The eyes of the little Idzouna and those of Toiki explored the 
depths of the river and divined many mysterious creations. The 
tossings of the water revealed to them many unknown beings 
whose fugitive apparitions left furrows shining like star-beams, 
and sprinkled over with little globes, opal-hued, which died in 
flames of gold. 

" Oh, little keeper," said Idzouna, " how happy would I be 
to live in that world bluer than the heavens. There must be at 


its bottom living flowers bearing pearls in their calices, little 
princesses riding upon the backs of winged fish, and little keepers 
whose song never ceases." And dazzled, fascinated by the starry 
irradiations which she saw, Idzouna hung further and further 
over the edge of the river, as if drawn by an unknown force. 
Then her women, to arouse her from her ecstasy, put her in the 
palanquin and carried her back to the city, while the sound of 
Toiki's flute grew feebler and died away in the distance. 

But every day the little princess prayed Buddha to carry her 
away down into the water with the gold-fish and the keeper. 
She wrote her prayer upon a leaf of rice-paper, tore it up, and 
then placing the fragments on her fan, fanned them towards 

One evening Idzouna, unable to sleep, disturbed by the vision 
of the blue, escaped from her father's palace and ran towards the 
river. Toiki was not there; he had gone to the carry the cang of 
a daimio. All was calm around the little bamboo house. In 
the reeds the storks slept upon one foot, their heads tucked under 
Yheir wings. Far away upon Fousi-Yama, the roofs of the tem- 
ple of Buddha, defined against the sky, shone under the rays of 
the moon, whose large disk was reflected in the river. Idzouna 
approached the stream, and in the watery mirror gazed at the 
planet which she had been taught to venerate. At first her eyes 
perceived only forms vague and floating as clouds ; then she saw 
distinctly mountains, rivers and cities. A breeze wrinkled the 
surface of the water and the scene changed. The little princess 
now saw in the reflection of the moon a large, silver pagoda 
where was seated an immense Buddha, squatted upon his throne 
of incandescent brass, and supporting upon his folded arms his 
thirty-two sons. At his feet incense smoked in vases of jade ; 
virgins played on the lute of thirteen strings; and upon the stair- 
case of the lunar temple, Idzouna thought she saw Toiki playing 
his strain, while his mother held out to her the cup of saki which 
unites forever the betrothed. The little princess bent forward to 
take it — and disappeared in the river. 

The moon tore itself from the dark gap, was troubled for a 


moment, and then resumed its immobility upon the surface of 
the blue water whose mysteries Idzouna henceforward knew. 

A stork flew up into the sky, uttering a plaintive wail. This 
was all. * * * * 

The next day Toiki was surprised at not seeing the little prin- 
cess. All day he awaited her in vain. Towards evening, when 
the moon appeared anew, the keeper remained on the bank and 
took to playing upon his flute a dolorous strain, which told of 
the sadness of Toiki and the ingratitude of Idzouna. While he 
played the reflection of the moon became troubled, and a vague 
form raised itself from the river like those mists which rise from 
the valleys in the nights of autumn. And little by little the 
form grew more distinct. The delicate profile of the little prin- 
cess became defined, all white against the dark background. 
Her face was smiling. She held in one hand the blue lotus 
flower which only a spirit freed from the body and entered into 
Nirvana can cull. With the other she raised the cup of saki 
in which the betrothed must lave their lips. Her azure robe 
mingled with the blue water, so that it was impossible to tell 
whether its silken folds or the ripplings of the tide disturbed 
the river. Toiki played on under an irresistible impulse, and 
Idzouna followed him gliding upon the wave. The moon was 
mirrored in the endlesss folds of her robe, and in it the keeper 
saw, he too, the silver pagoda. 

At dawn Toiki ceased to play, and the image of Idzouna dis- 
appeared. At evening the little princess appeared again at the 
sound of the flute. This lasted many nights. 

Toiki counted the years. The night when the little princess 
would have attained her fifteenth year — the age of marriage — 
she appeared to him more beautiful than ever in a white mist 
like a bridal vail. The keeper played a marriage song pearly 
as the bubblings of the waves ; and when the first rose-light 
appeared behind Fouzi-Yama, paling the light of the moon, he 
let himself glide into the water. The folds of Idzouna's robe 
closed around him, and Toiki slept forever in the mysterious 

ST. MARY'8 MUSE. 81 

Since that day, no one has taken care of the gold-fish ; but, at 
the foot of Fouzi-Yama (the rose mountain), upon the same 
branch of flowery azalia, two little Bengali birds with azure 
wings, sing the keeper's song in the brightening mists of the 


Two of them were given to our baby sister, Dora. She was 
delighted when they came, and immediately named, one Dick 
and the other Beauty. Dick's feathers were of a soft yellow 
color, and Beauty's were yellow and brown. The birds had 
been married after the custom of the Arabian Nights, without 
the consent of either party. They did not agree very well at 
first, as might haye been expected. After about a month had 
passed, however, they became fond of each other. At night, 
before they went to sleep, Beauty would fly up to the swinging- 
perch and rock, while Dick sang to her. 

Dora was too small to take care of her birds, and mother had 
to do it for her. Mamie being so fond of pets, and taking great 
interest in the canaries, Dora decided to give them to her. She 
took excellent care of them, giving them fresh water, seed and 
chickweed every morning. They throve well, and soon came to 
love their little owner. We were told that the birds would sino- 
better, if they were put into separate cages. "We tried the experi- 
ment and found it to be true : they would sing to each other. 

As spring came on, Beauty began to be very restless and to 
tear at the paper with which the bottom of the cage was covered. 
Thinking that she wanted to build, Mamie gave her a little bas- 
ket and some cotton, and she soon had a cozy nest. She lined 
the basket with bits of cotton and paper, and with feathers 
plucked from her own breast and from Dick's. She would fly 
at Dick and try to tear out a mouthful of his feathers, while 

%l 7 


Dick; who did not relish this treatment, resisted with all his 
might. The morning after the nest was finished, we found 
a pretty little egg. It was about the size of a cherry, of a delicate 
green color, speckled over with brown. Every day for four 
days an egg was added to the number in the nest. Then Beauty 
became very quiet, and sat upon the eggs all the time. We 
waited, with as much patience as we could command, for the com- 
ing of the little birds. On the morning of the fifteenth day, 
after we had found the last egg, we were rewarded for our 
patience by the faint chirp of baby canaries. Upon looking into 
the nest we saw two hideous, skinny, open-mouthed young birds, 
not at all like our beautiful Dick. But oh ! how proud were 
Mr. Dick and Mrs. Beauty ! The other eggs did not hatch, and 
had to be taken out of the nest. Sad to relate, one of the little 
birds died. Then, indeed, we were anxious. Would his twin 
brother survive "? He decided that he would, and grew so fast, 
his feathers growing too, that he soon became a very handsome 
bird. Dora named him Fuzzyball, after a kitten she had been 
reading about. 

The Birds gave us some trouble as well as pleasure. One day, 
upon going to pay them our usual morning visit, we found that 
the cage door had been left partly open, and Fuzzyball had 
escaped. We searched everywhere for him, but could not find 
him. Not very long afterward we were surprised to find that 
Dick also had escaped. We found him in one of the large oaks 
at the back of the house. We could not coax him to come to 
us ; and at last we put his empty cage in the window in hope 
that he would fly in. When he saw the jay-birds coming, he 
decided that there was " No place like home," and home he 
accordingly came. We had been afraid that the jays would kill 
him before he could be caught. Another sad morning we found 
Dick alone in the cage. All that we could find of poor Beauty 
were a few brown feathers, which lay scattered upon the floor. 
Her fate was plain : she had been eaten by a cat. Dick lingered 
for a year after the death of his wife ; then he was taken with a 
painful illness, and we were obliged to kill him. 



Passing by our yard some June day, you cannot help noticing 
what a pretty spot it is. The geraniums and other hot-house 
plants are set out in the yard during the summer. There is a 
bed filled with varieties of verbenas, and another with the love- 
liest carnations; a third has violets and lilies-of-the-valley. 
Trailing along the fence is a honeysuckle vine, and small lilac 
bushes are placed at each corner of the yard. Here and there 
are old-fashioned white spirea, petunias, and many others. But 
chief of all are our roses, which are lovely. There is almost 
every shade, from pure white to deepest crimson. The hand- 
somest variety is " Gen. Jacqueminot," but my favorite is a 
" Marie Van Houtte." It is a beautiful rose, of a very pale 
yellow, shaded to deep canary at the centre. The buds, which 
are perfectly shaped and lovely, are sometimes blotched with a 
slight silvery pink. The odor is delicious. As for the " Jack," 
every one has the perfect, rich, red rose. Last winter and the 
winter before, when this rose was just introduced, the buds sold 
at seventy-five cents apiece. Winter before last it was the floral 
favorite, and was seen at every ball, wedding or reception. Last 
winter, though still popular, it was not so much sought after as 
were the flowers of the " Perle des Jardins." This is just the 
opposite of the " Jack." It is not so large, and is a deep canary 
yellow. From a shoot of the " Perle," carefully tended, this 
season's favorite was formed. The " Sunset," the new rose, 
differs from the " Perle des Jardins, as it is larger and of a more 
orange hue. It is rather like the "Safrano," that sweet old- 
fashioned rose, or " Mine. Falcot," which closely resembles the 
" Safrano." Among the tea-roses, after the " Perle " and " Sun- 
set," the " Niphetos " deserves mention. It is pure white, 
large and very fragrant. The first I ever saw was a bud in a 
bride's bouquet, and it was the loveliest flower I have ever seen. 
"Tea-roses " are very popular, and there are new varieties con- 
stantly introduced. " Moss-roses" arc never particularly beau- 
tiful, though occasionally a pretty one may be found. The buds 
are usually ill-formed, and the full-blown roses do not show the 


moss. Climbing roses are very beautiful, trailed upon a terrace 
or on the pillars of a porch. I have seen a climbing " Cloth of 
Gold," a large gold-colored (as its name signifies) Southern rose, 
climbing up the trunk of an old tree, the deep yellow flowers 
shining against the dark leaves. It seems a singular fact that 
florists give either very ugly or unpronounceable names. Why 
should one lovely rose, a pale lemon yellow, be called " Isabella 
Sprunt," and another " John Hopper," and another poor little 
rose be burdened with the name of " Mme. Ched-Guinesseau ?" 
Side by side in our garden stand two roses — one the old-fash- 
ioned, deep rose-colored " Peony," the other the newly-intro- 
duced " Baroness Rothschild," a lovely shade of satiny pink, 
and very popular with flower-lovers. In another part of the yard 
are a few sticks enclosing a dead bush. It is our seventh "Marechal 
Niel." The flowers of this rose are lovely — large, perfectly 
shaped and a rich, golden yellow — a perfect rose. But I have 
only admired it from afar, for our "Marechal Niels" won't live. 

Many plant their roses early in the spring or late in the win- 
ter ; but it is an equally good plan for those who have hot-houses to 
obtain roses early in the winter, and keep them in a hot-house until 
spring. The young and tender plants should never be exposed 
to the cold. For out-door growth during the summer, the sweet 
old rose, the " Safrano," is one of the best, and blossoms contin- 
ually, unless the weather is exceptionally hot. " Mme. Falcot" 
is a good bloomer, and so is the " Duchess of Edinburgh," a 
very clear pink. " Nancy Lee," " Magna Charta," and the 
" Duke of Connaught " should be mentioned. The " Duke " is 
carmine, " Magna Charta " pink, and " Mme. Charles Wood " 
is bright red ; and these four will make a brilliant bouquet. 

The darkest rose I ever saw was sent us by mistake for a 
" Jacqueminot ; it proved to be a " Princess Camille de Rohan." 
The color is a velvety crimson — almost black. This rose shows 
to advantage when put with an opposite shade, for instance, a 
" INTiphetos " bud. I prefer a white or yellow rose to their 
deeper neighbors, except a " Baroness Rothschild." To love 
roses, one should cultivate them — the best way to appreciate the 
beauties of flowers. 


Died, in Goldsboro, N. C, on Wednesday, January 30th, of 
pneumonia, Abraham Kiersted Swedes, in the 39th year of his age. 

The following tribute to the memory of our Rector's brother 
appeared in the Goldsboro Messenger of January 31st: 

"This beloved and greatly esteemed citizen of Goldsboro breathed 
his last at ten minutes past one o'clock on yesterday morning, and 
the afflicting tidings caused one general, sympathetic throb of sorrow 
and pain to our whole community. 

"In the death of Abraham K. Smedes this community has sus- 
tained a great loss. An open hand, ever responding to a heart as 
open and kind and generous and true, is still and cold in death. To 
a mind that was strong, manly, vigorous and clear, he united those 
charms of manner and those noble elements of character that won 
and attracted to him the hearts of all persons with whom he came 
in contact, and to know him meant to love and admire him. 

"As a lawyer he stood in the front rank of his brethren, having 
garnered into a mind of great native ability and scholarly attain- 
ments the best fruits that have fallen from the masters of the science 
which he chose as his profession. He had scarcely attained the age 
of thirty-nine years, but few older men at the bar in this State have 
won the reputation which he deservedly bore as a safe counsellor, a 
careful and correct practitioner, a close and logical reasoner and an 
impressive and successful advocate; and withal he was the soul of 
honor in his dealings with his clients, in his conduct of causes, and 
in his relations with his brethren of the bar, and, indeed, with all 

"Mr. Smedes was a son of the late Rev. Aldert Smedes, D. D., of 
St. Mary's School, Raleigh." 

At an adjourned meeting of the bar, held in the Court-house on 

Saturday, February 9th, Judge J. E. Shepherd presiding, Colonel 

Wm. A. Allen, after a short and touching tribute to the deceased, 

moved the adoption of appropriate resolutions. 

Died, in Choctaw county, Alabama, on January 3d, 18S4, in the 
24th year of her age, Mary Long Marsh, wife of Edward L. 
Marsh, and daughter of Dr. Richmond N. Pearson, of Cave Spring, 
Georgia. "He giveth His beloved sleep." 




The Saturday morning before Christmas found the last party 
bound for fun elsewhere, taking leave of friends and — I was 
going to say, books, but they had been forgotten long ago — 
the afternoon before. As we drove off, waving a " Merry Christ- 
mas" back to old St. Mary's, our hearts bounded at the thought 
of having almost two weeks in which to do just as we pleased, 
with not a care on our minds, not a thing to recall school and its 
duties. Though the last to leave, we were far from the least, 
for quite a little crowd was bound for Tarboro, eight in all, three 
of us visitors. The very name " Tarboro " is suggestive of bright 
girls and lots of fun ; so of course we were in the highest spirits 
when we reached Weldon at 2 o'clock. As sometimes happens, 
the connecting train was an hour behind time; so, glad of the 
opportunity, we determined to walk up the railroad to the iron 
bridge, which is quite remarkable. By some good fortune, we 
had met on the train two gentlemen, the uncles of one of our # 
party, who were going our way, and who contributed much to 
our pleasure. So, after enjoying the unusually good dinner set 
before us at the Weldon hotel, and providing ourselves with 
tickets for the remainder of the road, we all set out for the 
bridge. This is about a quarter of a mile from the depot, and 
the same in length. We were a little more than half way across, 
and were admiring the beauties of the Roanoke which flows 
beneath, when the sound of the coming train startled us. It was 
yet fully twenty-five minutes before it was expected. We had 
little more than time to get off the bridge before the train was 
upon us. Should we be left behind! Off we all went in a run, 
one of the gentlemen ahead in order to delay the train, if possi- 
ble, for a few moments. We must have been a spectacle for the 
people at the depot as we came puffing up at full speed, collected 
our bundles, and jumped on just as the train was moving off. 


From Weldon to Rocky Mount the ride is a pleasant one, the 
road being smooth and level, and the engine traveling at a com- 
paratively rapid rate. It formed a striking contrast to that from 
Rocky Mount to Tarboro, on which, or on a similar one, Arte- 
mns Ward was traveling when he suggested that the cow-catcher 
should be removed from in front of the engine, which would 
never overtake a cow, and placed behind the train lest one should 
stroll in and bite the passengers. But nothing could daunt the 
spirits of our party. As we neared the depot, heads were stretched 
out of windows, eyes peered into the darkness to catch sight of 
fathers or brothers. Never, it seemed to us, did locomotive 
whistle and scream and puff so long before coming to a stand still. 
But at last the suspense was over; hurried greetings were ex- 
changed; the party was broken up as we went our respective 
ways; and soon the kindest of welcomes, the best of suppers, 
the pleasant chat beside a great wood fire, our happiness and our 
weariness were alike forgotten in sleep. 

Though the weather the next day, and indeed almost all of the 
holidays, was rainy and disagreeable, yet we did not allow that 
to keep us indoors, but wrapping up warmly, we drove to church. 
The beauties of Tarboro church had many times been described 
to me, and for that reason, I rather feared a disappointment. 
People said, too, that we could not realize the real beauty of the 
place until we saw it in the spring or early summer. But it seemed 
to us strangers that the very contrast of the green church-yard 
with the bare and wintry look of the outer world, enhanced its 
beauty. The mass of evergreen, the stained, time-worn tomb- 
stones only half visible from beneath the thick shrubbery; the 
old vault in a corner entirely covered with ivy; lastly, the 
church itself, picturesquely situated among the trees, and every 
window hooded by a mass of ivy, — the eye passed from one to 
another, never tiring, but ever finding some new, half-hidden 
beauty on which to fix the gaze. The careful hand of the rector, 
whose pleasure it is to beautify his church, is seen everywhere. 

On Monday, immediately after breakfast (N. B., about 11 
o'clock) "our crowd" met at the church, for we had promised to 


help with the Christmas dressing. Fortunately, people know 
what confidence to place in school-girls' promises; for we stayed 
but a short time, making more use of our tongues than our hands ; 
then left the church, and spent the remainder of the morning 
completing our Christmas purchases. Such fun we had in the 
afternoon dressing the house and hanging the mistletoe-bough 
from the chandelier! In the evening, we all met, by invitation, 
at the house of one of our party to enjoy an oyster-supper; then 
followed merry games in which all joined, young and old. 
Wishing one another a Merry Christmas as we said good-night, 
for the hour of midnight was long past, we separated. And a 
very merry Christmas it was! The first excitement of examin- 
ing the stockings so carefully stuffed the night before; the joy- 
ous Christmas services, when the church showed no signs of hav- 
ing suffered for our breach of promise; the merry Christmas 
dinner, and to crown all, the evening dance! The music fur- 
nished by Italians, was so delightful that we could not have 
helped dancing had we wished ; and the company was so pleasant 
that it was with reluctance that we broke up after dancing for 
four hours. 

Our time was short and we made the best of it, spending the 
mornings calling on friends or receiving calls, and meeting every 
evening at the house of one or another of our party. Although 
the weather was too bad to allow of much driving, we .had one 
delightful horseback ride. The children's Christmas frolic was 
fully as pleasant to us elders as to the children. What it was 
to be, no one knew. But when a large party were assembled at 
the Hall one evening at about seven o'clock, suddenly old Santa 
Claus appeared in the midst, springing from no one knew where. 
Such a good Santa Claus he was, with his long white beard and 
snow-covered coat, his pipe and his bells, that the little ones 
were quite frightened, until he began to scatter toys from his 
well-filled basket, and soon they were eagerly scrambling about 
his knees. The evening ended with frolicking games and a merry 

The days slipped by very quickly, and they were rather dole- 
ful faces 'that appeared at the breakfast-table the last morning. 


We could not help making haste very slowly, with an undefined 
hope in our hearts that we should be late for the train. Do what 
we would, however, we were in time; and, once fairly off, our 
spirits revived, and, making the best of our last free hours, we 
returned with renewed vigor to our studies. 


Our first holiday dawned bright and glorious. The sun 
smiled gladly down upon us, sympathizing in our joy. Very 
light and happy were the hearts, and cheery the voices of all. 
The sensation was one of such inexpressible bliss — to know that 
we were "ladies of leisure," and need not lay dowu novel or 
paint-brush at the tap of the bell. This was one great advau- 
tage which we possessed over those fortunate damsels who were 
going away. They were so busy packing that the first sweet 
moments of idleness could not be thoroughly enjoyed. And 
then the disagreeable traveling — the long, fatiguing journeys 
which some were to take — really, our philosophical minds could 
not understand their attractions. It must be owned, however, 
that " happy thoughts" such as these did not prevent some tears 
and repinings. But we will not speak of such out-of-place mat- 
ters, nor let our readers suppose that all our time was idled away; 
for we accomplished a marvellous amount of work. On Mon- 
day, the chapel, dormitories, and dining-room were prettily dec- 
orated with holly and cedar. In fact the two dormitories in the 
main building vied with each other in their ornamentations. 
The doors were firmly locked and bolted by the busy workers 
inside, lest dwellers in the other dormitory should "peep and 
copy." At last, admittance was granted, and from each room 
the girls rushed to see what their neighbors had done. "Welcome," 
and "Good wishes for the New Year" greeted the visitors in the 
West dormitory; but in the East, where English was deemed too 
commonplace, " Willkommen!" first met the eyes of the eager flock, 
and was appropriately construed into " Will come in !" When, be- 
hold ! at the other end, "Prosit Neujahr!" — Too high-toned was 


this atmosphere, and without standing upon the order of their 
going, the visitors went at once. " Xmas, King of Feasts," graced 
the wall of the dining-room. 

Our last acts on Christmas-eve were to hang up our stockings 
on a large tree, and to put our little gifts for one another in the 
teachers' alcoves. Then, when all was still, Santa Claus, care- 
fully on tiptoe stealing, filled our stockings, and placed the larger 
packages within reach on chairs. About four o'clock Christmas 
morning, some wakeful little girl shouted "Merry Christmas!" 
and soon the whole dormitory was roused. We called for a 
light, but there were no matches. In despair, we determined at 
least to feel our presents, and were soon groping in the dark 
towards the Xmas-tree. Conjectures and wonderings were ex- 
pressed by each as to the shape and nature of various articles, 
but there was no certainty with regard to anything. This myste- 
rious disappearance of the matches we privately guessed to be a 
joke; but of course none gave utterance to any such sentiment. 
The other dormitory was equally destitute. No one volunteered 
to go down stairs at that hour for matches, and we waited a long 
time, until our very kind teacher willingly made the trip, and 
returned with a light — the greatest blessing she could have 
brought us. 

To our sorrow, the day was "dark and cold and dreary;" but 
within, all was bright and cheerful. Because of the rain, we 
did not attend church in town, but our little chapel never looked 
prettier, nor was the Xmas service ever sweeter or more impres- 
sive. The remainder of the morning was spent in many ways; 
chiefly in admiring presents. When the great bell sounded for 
dinner, we willingly obeyed its call. 

"Then was brought in the lusty brawn, 
By old blue-coated serving John; 
There the huge surloin reeked, hard by 
Plum-porridge stood, and Xmas pie." 

The evening was gaily passed in games, and later, we were 
invited to partake of Florida oranges in the sitting-room. The 
next day we assembled there again, and after a long discussion 


as to what we should read, "Two Years Ago" was chosen. Our 
mornings passed delightfully reading this entertaining novel, and 
a nice lunch with hot coffee formed by no means a minor feature 
of them. 

But oh ! our long-fobidden, longr-hoped-for boxes; the first of 
the season! The expressman came at all hours, bringing boxes, 
large and small. And the treasures those boxes contained — 
the feasts we had from those boxes — the poverty of language 
prevents our describing! 

Tims the days and nights flew until New Year's. About 
seven o'clock that evening, preparations were begun for an elab- 
orate entertainment. Nothing with regard to its character was 
known. Impenetrable mystery surrounded it. Sheets and twine 
were collected, and for a loug while the parlor was the scene of 
busy action. Nothing need be said of the innumerable difficul- 
ties met with; the all-manner of props we tried to hold up those 
sheets with. Suffice it to sav, that the most noticeable feature of 
the entertainment was bathos ; of the audience (to use mild terms), 
a lack of intellectual acuteness. A stranger might have made 
the egregious mistake of supposing that the spectators were for 
the first time witnessing the remarkable productions of impro- 
visation. Applause was given only by request, and encores served 
a new purpose, viz.: that of affording a meaus of studying the 
points of some very pointless charades. Even when told the 
names of the charades, in the hope that words might speak 
louder than actions, the audience only remarked "How abstruse!" 
The effort, however, was highly commended; and, whether from 
a sense of duty, or delight at its brevity, the evening was pro- 
nounced " a great success." 

On Wednesday the girls began to return, and by Thursday, 
all, with the exception of a few stragglers, were back again. 
Each had the same long tale to tell of a round of gayeties, of 
rides, hops and Germans, and all the delights of a Christmas 
vacation. But St. Mary's, we will venture to say, could boast 
of hearts far more cheerful and ready to recommence work. The 
new-comers, so merry and gay at first, soon found that a few idle 


tears would not only rise in the heart, but gather to the eyes, in 
thinking of the days that were no more. Then would we in- 
wardly remark the (compulsory) wisdom of our course. At least 
we could tell a greater variety of entertainment than they. 
Shadow-pantomimes, and games, and dressing dolls, and — and — 
why, we haven't room to enumerate them all. We leave the 
decision to our readers, as they look on that picture, and on this. 

The last week of the Advent term was spent in examina- 
tions. Dreaded as these always are, they could not have been 
passed more successfully. Teachers and visitors expressed their 
approbation of the earnest work of the girls during the half- 
year, and thus inspired us with new zeal for the work of the 
spring. The new term has brought with it a number of scholars 
whom we gladly welcome; but it has also taken from us our fair 
New Berne sister and other old friends, whose places cannot be 

That "the Senior Class at St. Mary's School, Raleigh, 
N. C, is following out a most charming course of reading," is 
nothing new nor strange. Rather might our Alumnae friends 
remind us that, for many a year, classes have met together, and 
have read and pondered perhaps the self-same pages that we love. 
Hence we give not the tidings of our readings as a bit of news, 
but only that absent friends may know what is going on in our 
pretty little sitting-room these pleasant February evenings. 

The reading this year has taken a wide range : Kingsley, Pres- 
cott, Browning, Dante — not to mention casual articles from the 
papers or magazines. We began with a novel, " Westward Ho !" 
Of course it had a love story, and a sad one. But there were 
woven into it many bright pictures of the England of Elizabeth — 
the court of the great Gloriana. Here was a type of the brave, 
generous English character, in Amyas Leigh; there, the noble 
but warped soul of the Spaniard. Kingsley carried us on board 
the English vessels, and sw T ept us out upon the Spanish Main. 
He showed us Drake's square form and fiery eye; the Great 


Armada slowly sailing past Plymouth on its way to join Parma, 
at Dunkirk ; Frobisher, the hero of the northwest passage, and 
brave Howard, in small vessels scarce bigger than yachts, crowded 
with eager volunteers, slipping by and intercepting it. We saw 
the tremendous fleet routed, and learned the message Drake sent 
home in triumph to his Qneen. But though defeat was the 
Spaniard's portion, and the flower of their nobility was gone, we 
felt great interest in this nation, so short a time before the rul- 
ing one of Europe. Kingsley had given us a bright glimpse 
into the luxuriance of the American tropics, where Pizarro had 
found his gold and done those wicked deeds which the savage 
Indian could neither forgive nor forget; and a fearful one into 
the horrors of the Inquisition, the only blot upon Isabella's 
reign. So we turned gladly from our novel to study these things 
in Prescott's glowing pages. Interesting as is his history, how- 
ever, we often lay it aside to trace the development of Spanish 
literature, or to read romantic legends of the people of the Alham- 
bra. Arnold, Longfellow and Browning have lent us aid, and 
Anderson and Taylor wait to o-ive us more. 

Lately we have been busy with the study of Dante. The 
magazines have been so full of him, his life, and his works, that 
w r e were inspired to gain a more intimate knowledge. Dante, 
the man, we know not, as yet; of Dante, the boy-poet and 
dreamer, so gifted, so high-souled, so almost femininely beauti- 
ful, we are learning. We first saw him at a May-day festival, 
looking with eyes full of admiration upon a gentle little girl, 
just nine years of age. We learned how r the image, of Beatrice 
never left him from that moment, and how he centred on her his 
purest, most chivalrous love. He fondly dwells upon the mystic 
presence of the sacred number in all the events of her life. It 
is in her ninth year, the square of the perfect number, three, that 
he first meets the " excellent Beatrice." He meets her again in 
her eighteenth year. She is the third and fairest of a fair trio. 
He meets her always in the ninth hour, or on the ninth day, or 
in the ninth month; her who was so angelic that men's thoughts 
grew purer as they looked upon her : — 


" Not she herself alone is holier 

Than all ; but hers, through her, are raised above." 
" He whom she greeteth feels his heart to rise, 
And of his evil heart is then aware; 
Hate loves, and pride becomes a worshipper." 

As I said, we know Dante only as the author of the "Vita 
Nuova"; as yet, we have not descended with him to the realm 
of shadows. And even had we followed him through the nine 
circles of Hell, and the glories of Paradise; had we admired and 
studied to the utmost his magnificent work, we dare not pass 
judgment upon him. We wait for riper years. Scarce half a 
century it took him to live his life and work his work; six cen- 
turies have proved insufficient to exhaust the wonderful beauties 
of his creations. 


Saturday evening, Feb. 9th, 1884. — To us these words 
have a delightful meaning, not soon to be banished from our 
thoughts. Upon this evening we found ourselves seated in the 
crowded Tucker Hall, eagerly waiting for the curtain to rise; for, 
almost beyond our belief, the dream of weeks was realized, and 
Minnie Hauk had come to our town. The concert opened with 
a duet from " Belisario " by Messrs. Montegriffo and De Pas- 
qualis, tenor and baritone, the latter of excellent quality. The 
pianist of the evening, Constantin Sternberg, who also accompa- 
nied Madame Hauk when she sang, gave such a rendering' of 
the "Midsummer Night's Dream" that Mendelssohn himself 
must, of necessity, have been pleased. We heard the little fairies 
come tripping into the silent wood. When all were assembled, 
we heard their songs and dances, their preparations for the fun, 
merry and soft as fairies' play should be, and heard the wedding 
march with its own bright, glad strain, without the crash and 
bang which often crush its beauty. Later in the evening, Mr. 


Sternberg delighted all lovers of music with a "Barcarole," one 
of his own works, and a " Pizzicato polka" from " Silvia." His 
easy, graceful execution, and sweet, firm touch reminded us of 
what we have read of Chopin, and would have disabused any one 
of the mistaken idea often held concerning classical music. 

Madame Hank made her first appearance in Handel's " Angels 
Ever Bright and Fair"; and whether it was that we had expected 
too much, or that the song was not suited to her voice, the soft, 
low echoes seemed stifled or stopped, and the effect was disap- 
pointing. In her next piece however, the " Echo Song " from 
"Mignon," the beauty, power, and flexibility of her voice became 
manifest, and long before the song was finished, we were in an 
enthusiasm of delight. Nor were these feelings suffered to sub- 
side throughout the evening. Sig. De Pasqualis thrilled all 
present, and made the hall resound with his rich baritone, both 
in the Grand Aria from "Dinorah" and in "Figaro," which he 
sang as an encore. In the latter, though he did not move from 
his position, by his varying tones, animated gestures, and chang- 
ing expression, he displayed great talent as an actor. 

Madame Hauk sang three encores, "Coining through the 
Rye," "Way Down Upon the Swanee River," and "I Know a 
Maiden Fair to See." The first of these made no particular 
impression; we have heard it sung as sweetly by others not so 
distinguished; but she gave to the "Swanee River," always dear 
to Southern hearts, a new pathos and tenderness. She played 
her own accompaniment to " I Know," &c, and the little air 
with which she took her seat at the piano, and busied herself with 
her gloves preparatory to the performance, was very pretty. 
Part First closed with a Quartette from " Martha," of which the 
concluding bars were a succession of magnificent chords by the 
four voices. 

The act from " La Favorita," which was to have formed Part 
Second, was exchanged for one from "Rigoletto." Each voice 
was at its best, and indeed we hardly realized their respective 
merits until this second part of the entertainment. Mile. Sali, 


whose voice had not been much admired in " It was a Dream," 
redeemed herself nobly in the operatic scene, and sang with 
much feeling and at times passion. 

The concert came to a close long before we were ready for it 
to do so ; and having had a taste of operas, we left the hall i 
with an intense longing for more. 

We, too, have had a concert, which, in point of time, takes 
precedence over that of Minnie Hauk. A few days before we 
scattered for the Xmas holidays, we gave an entertainmet for the 
benefit of St. John's Hospital. The care and time bestowed 
upon it had their full reward, for it was unanimously pronounced 
the best ever held at St. Mary's. Messrs. Pauli and Perry aided 
us with the violin and cornet respectively, and Mrs. Busbee, with 
her sweet voice. The concert was a recital from the works of 
Mendelssohn and Mozart, with the exception of Weber's Per- 
petuus Mobile, inserted by request. In addition to the music, 
there was also a scene from " The Taming of the Shrew," in 
which Katherine, Petruchio, and Baptista added to their repu- 
tation. They were well supported in the minor parts. The 
proceeds were about $50.00. 

We give the programme below. 


Overture to Athalie. 

Misses Roberts, Hughes, Mathewson and Blackraer. 


Miss E. H. Smedes and Mr. Pauli. 

Trio prom " Elijah " — Lift Thine Eyes. 

Mrs. F. H. Bu 
Rondo Capriccio 

Mrs. F. H. Busbee, Miss Stone and Miss Hagood. 

Mr. S. Wiig. 

Vocae Duo—" 0, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast." 

Miss Hagood and Miss McVea. 

i.r ( a. E major. 

Songs without Words, j 6 _ E mi J Qr 

Miss Lillian C. Roberts. 

Trio and Chorus — " I Waited for the Lord." 

Misses Hagood, A. White and McVea and Vocal Class. 


The Taming of the Shrew, .... Shakespeare. 

Act II; Act IV, sc. .5; Act V, sc. 2. 

Katharine, .... Miss Alice M. Hagood. 
Petruchio, her suitor, . . " Emelie W. McVea. 

Baptista, her father, ..." Nannie C. Hughes. 
Bianca, her sister, ... " Emille R. Smedes. 

Hortensio, . . . . " Martha A. Dowd. 

His Wife, .... " Lillian C. Roberts. 

Lucentio, suitor to Bianca, . . " Mary L. Hicks. 

Gremio, suitor to Bianca, . . " Ida M. Oartrell. 

Biondello, a page, ..." Maud S. Cunningham. 
Grumo, a page, ... " Eliza B. Plttman. 

Scene, first in Baptista's house, afterwards in Petruchio's. 



Oveture to Don Giovanni for Piano, 'cello and cornet. 
Misses Smedes, Philips, Pittman and Dowd. 
Messrs. Perry and Pauli. 

Recitative and Aria from " Marriage of Figaro." 
Miss Nanette A. Stone. 

Fantaisie in C minor. 

Miss Martha A. Dowd. 

Symhhony in e flat — Adagio ; Andante ; Mennetto ; Finale. 
Misses Czarnomska, Stone, Johnson and Smedes. 
Messrs. Perry and Pauli. 

Duett from " Cosi fan Tutte." 

Mrs. F. H. Busbee and Miss Stone. 

Perpetuum Mobile (by request). 

Miss Annie H. Philips. 


Finale from the " Flight from the Seraglio." 

Mrs. Busbee, Miss Mathewson, Miss McVea and Chorus. 

Farewell, kind friends ! so sings St. Mary's, 
She sings farewell in cherry notes ; 
No merrier the music floats 

In moonlit air from dancing fairies. 

Best thanks ! our coffers you have filled 

With willing alms to aid the Guild. 


Like cyclone on the western prairies, 
Love sweeps all obstacles away ; 
And Hospitals their debts may pay 

By Love's strong aid. So sings St. Mary's. 
Best thanks ! etc. 

Great wits have sometimes strange vagaries, 
But Love's sweet tune ne'er leads astray ; 
This novel way old debts to pay 

Is right enough. So sings St. Mary's. 
Best thanks ! etc. 

Rubinstein is coming over to attend the Musical Festival 
soon to be given in Cincinnati, and it is hoped that he will then 
conduct his great work, the " Tower of Babel." There appeared 
in the supplement of a recent number of the Leipzig Gazette a 
description of it, which we have translated for the benefit of 
our readers. 

Dr. Emil JNaumann writes: " The Tower of Babel" was pre- 
sented in the new town Church of the Three Kings, at Dresden, 
on the twenty-third of November, in the presence of the com- 
poser, who himself conducted it. 

In the "Tower of Babel," as in " The Maccabees," Rubinstein 
takes an Old Testament subject, musically dramatizing the well- 
known story which expresses so forcibly at once the arrogance 
and the impotence of man. The writer of the text, Julius 
Rodenberg, has admirably presented the biblical figures of Nirn- 
rod and Abram. Nimrod is the daring hunter, at whose insti- 
gation the building of the tower is begun. With passionate zeal 
he urges the people to work. " Let us build a tower whose top 
may reach unto heaven," shout the restless people, whom, in the 
first chorus, we seem to see really before us, as they lay stone upon 
stone, and proudly rejoice when they think of the final comple- 
tion of their gigantic plan. 

Thus, in the beginning of his work, does Rubinstein show 
himself the highly gifted dramatist, whom, throughout the sub- 
secpient course of the composition, we admire. Mighty chords 
mark the entrance of Nimrod, who, regarding the increasing 
height of the tower, with fierce impatience and wicked exultation, 

ST. 31 ART'S 3IUSE. 99 

pictures to himself the time when he shall climb to its summit. 
Then will he see God face to face, and demand of Him the solu- 
tion of the enigma of life. At the words, 'I shall see God in 
His majesty,' the full orchestra bursts forth, emphasizing, with 
overwhelming expression, the Titan nature, which was foreshad- 
owed in Nimrod's bold entrance. Abram warns them to leave 
off building, since defiance cannot force from the Creator 'what 
the adoring eye of the faithful alone may behold.' ' 

Here let us pause to note the startling anachronism of which the 
composer is guilty ; not by making Nimrod contemporary with 
Abram, for that, in view of the great longevity of the ancients, 
might easily have been; but in making the latter present at the 
building of the tower. According to all received chronologies, 
the birth of Abram occurred at least two, and some say many 
more centuries after the dispersion. To resume — 

"The composer now paints most tenderly the happiness of the 
pious shepherd, whose soft song stands in marked contrast to 
Ximrod's heaven-defying speech. The tyrant is enraged that any 
dares to contradict him ; Abram is seized and condemned to the 
stake. Now the orchestra paints the flames as they leap up 
around him. We hear their hissing and the crackling of the 
sparks. Then is heard the heavenly song of the angels, who 
console the martyr and promise him aid. The power of the ele- 
ment must yield to the power of God ; and Abram walks forth, 
uninjured from the flames. 

Astonished at this miracle, each of the three tribes, descended 
respectively from Shem, Ham and Japhet, cry that only the God 
of their nation could command the element and save the shep- 
herd. A passionate chorus, whose three parts are wonderfully 
intermingled, is now heard, wherein we find Rubinstein as admir- 
able a master of polyphonic forms as of characteristic personifi- 

Nimrod, whose pride was subdued only for a moment when 
he saw the flames extinguished, ponders with proud impatience 
the continuance of the tower-building; but the just punishment 
of Heaven is at hand. Drums and trombones roll a deep bass, 


like approaching thunder; sultriness and horrible darkness oppress 
us. The people cry in awful chorus, ' The earth trembles/ while 
Ninirod still orders with haughty disdain, 'Cowards, obey my 
commands!" The tower shakes and falls with a crash. All 
flee, terror-stricken ; the confusion of tongues increases the despair, 
and Nimrod, deeply humbled, acknowledges his sin. 

We could not have a more vivid conception of this scene, which 
the composer represents with all the power of musical expres- 
sion at his command, if it were acted upon the stage before our 

After the musical dramatist has, in this scene, accomplished 
the most difficult of his self-imposed tasks, he exhibits in the 
three songs of the dispersed people which follow, as well as in 
Abram's song, his mastery of lyric composition. The voices of 
the children of Shem are first uplifted, full of longing. Through 
the strongly individualized, ever-recurring refrain, trembles the 
foreboding that they are the people who, for many years, shall 
seek a home in vain. Far otherwise resounds the song of the 
Hamites. Belonging to the same nomadic stem, they seek no 
home, for to wander is their life. The warm blood of the wan- 
derer pulses through the rhythm of this motive, while its deep, 
monotonous bass marks perhaps the sleep of death in which a 
part of the descendants of Ham rests to-day. Lastly, Rubin- 
stein characterizes the sons of Japhet as the bearer of culture; 
and, in striking contrast to the cruder songs of the other tribes, 
they chant a beautiful chorus, simple, yet wonderfully managed 
in its counterpoint. 

The ensuing song of Abram shows the devout man recognizing 
the wisdom of God's punishment, and already inwardly conscious 
that, spite of the dispersion of mankind over the earth, to the 
end of time there will be ' a shepherd and a flock.' In the orches- 
tration of this cadence, the composer gives the highest parts to 
the violins, whose glowing tones uniting with those of the harp, 
illumine Abram as with a heavenly light, while his words acquire 
a more and more prophetic character. 

The finale is a threefold chorus of angels, men, and devils, 


which, accompanied by full orchestra and organ, leaves a favora- 
ble impression. It would be still more effective if Rubinstein 
had shortened it somewhat, and made his sacred opera end before 
the last piano movement." 

Mario, the celebrated texor, has recently died in Rome. 
He was of a noble family of Sardinia, but gave up his title and 
went to Paris when quite young. Here he assumed the name of 
Mario, and, his highly cultivated musical talent bringing him into 
notice, he soon became a favorite in court circles. 

After two years study, in 1838 he made his debut in opera, in 
" Robert le Diable." He met with decided success, and took his 
place with Rubini, Lablache, and the other great singers who 
were then on the stage. For many years, Mario enjoyed the 
greatest popularity; he visited the United States in 1854, and 
again in 1873. But his voice was already beginning to fail, and 
a year or two after his return to Europe, he quitted the stage and 
retired to Rome, where he spent the last ten years of his life in 
studying astronomy and archeology. 


With the last days of 1883 ended the centennial of the 
birth of our Republic, that nine years struggle for liberty. The 
few thousand men then inhabiting each State knew nothing of 
war save what they had learned in irregular skirmishes with the 
Indians. The greater part of the soil lay uncultivated ; manu- 
factures were poor and the factories of the meanest kind. Then 
it was that our people learned the strength of union. Separately 
the States must have remained under English rule; united, they 
conquered that nation which for centuries had awed the world. 
With liberty came prosperity, and the Centennial of the Revo- 
lution dawned upon a giant nation. 


North Carolina began its celebration. In May, 1775, the few- 
dwellers of Mecklenburg county met together at Charlotte, and 
with one consent threw oif their allegiance to England. The act 
appeared of no consequence to the English king. The signers 
of the Mecklenburg Resolutions w r ere too few to be feared. But 
the news of the brave deed went far and wide over our land, and 
found an echo in the hearts of thousands burning; under English 
tyranny. It increased their already ardent desire to burst their 
bonds and be free. The State yearly honors the 20th of May, 
and in 1875 North Carolina's soldiers and statesmen united in a 
more elaborate testimony of respect for their forefathers. Mas- 
sachusetts also celebrated in '75, with ^splendid ceremonies, the 
two battles of Lexington and Bunker Hill, which first gave the 
British a taste of American pluck and firmness. These three 
events heralded the world-renowned Centennial of the Declara- 
tion of Independence in 1876. Thousands from the United 
States, from all parts of Europe, and even from Asia, thronged 
to the Philadelphia Exposition. Every industry, foreign and 
domestic, was represented. Music, art, science and invention 
there found a place. Young America undertook the Centennial 
as a glorious proclamation of the results of liberty. It showed 
the world that our country was in a condition of wealth, influence 
and prosperity scarcely credible after so short an existence. 
The members of the second Continental Congress, as they con- 
sulted together in Independence Hall before they signed that 
Declaration which should plunge their country in bloodshed, 
weighed solemnly the necessity and justice of their act. How 
great and glorious its issue they could not foresee. The Decla- 
ration was received with a trembling joy mingled with sadness. 
Its Centennial was celebrated by a mighty nation exulting in the 
obstacles it had overcome, the triumphs it had achieved ; proud 
of its youthful vigor, flushed with the conquest of its present 
position, and eager to attain still greater heights in the centuries 
to come. 

A few months later, New Jersey held the centennial of Wash- 
ington's famous Crossing of the Delaware, and in the summer of 



77, the one hundredth anniversary of the battle of Bennington, 
the special victory of the "Green Mountain Boys," was hailed by 

Then came a pause until the great Yorktown Reunion of Octo- 
ber, 1881, to celebrate the surrender of Lord Cornwallis. Thither 
nocked distinguished visitors from all parts of America and 
Europe, notably the President and several ex-Presidents of the 
United States, and the descendants of those noble men, the Mar- 
quis de la Fayette and Baron Steuben, without the latter of whom 
at least, American independence would scarcely have been gained. 
Besides the regular army, militia troops were sent from all the 
States; and the country which could scarcely muster a few raw 
recruits with which to begin the Revolutionary War assembled 
an army at Yorktown which for numbers, perfect military drill 
and discipline, is unrivalled in the world. 

The centennial of the British Evacuation followed the Reunion 
at Yorktown. New York was its theatre. Despite the pouring 
rain, multitudes thronged the streets, of that city to witness the 
magnificent display. The President and several Governors testi- 
fied to the hearty sympathy of the Government and States; and 
a splendid military parade, with an equally brilliant naval pro- 
cession, did honor to the brave men who, on that same day one 
hundred years before, gloried in the departure of the enemy from 
their land. 

The year 1883 has been one of political struggle, of physi- 
cal convulsion and financial loss. During this troublous time 
few nations have enjoyed so much quiet as our own. War, which 
threatened England, and which has fallen upon France, China, 
and Egypt, has not approached us. The policy pursued by the 
government, though far from brilliant, has been, on the whole, 
very acceptable to the people; but with the exception of those 
for the reduction of the postage and the adoption of standard 
time, no important bills have been passed. The question of civil 
service reform has been hotly discussed by both political parties, 
but still hangs fire. The condition of the Irish has excited much 

104 ST. M AMY'S MUSE. 

interest, but this has been manifested only by private citizens and 
Irish immigrants, and has not been considered by the government. 

On the other hand, private liabilities and losses involving great 
interests were so frequent in the earlier months of the year, that 
many predicted that 1883 would prove as financially disastrous 
as was 1873. Railroad stock has fallen ; one or two roads have 
been completed at a cost far beyond the estimate ; and every local 
newspaper has told of losses, not heavy as compared with those 
of the great centres of trade, but which must sadly interrupt the 
prosperity of those communities. But the grain and cotton crops 
have been so unusually good in those States which escaped the 
drought and terrible cyclones of the summer, and we have stored 
such a large quantity of exportable produce, that it is hoped its 
sale will restore our credit. 

The various Expositions held in the different States, notably 
those of Boston and Louisville, have done -much to excite and 
interest the public in agriculture, mineralogy, etc. North Caro- 
lina's exhibit at Boston elicited great admiration, and the speech 
of her Governor did honor to the State and gave the North a 
deeper insight into her resources and influence. 

Another Exposition will be held in '84 at New Orleans for 
the special benefit of the Southern States; and it will probably 
do much to extend the cultivation of cotton and sugar. 

England, during the past year, has maintained her high repu- 
tation for prudence and self-restraint, thereby preserving her 
honor and influence. True, the Irish agitation and the perplex- 
ing question, how to rule this people, have caused much excite- 
ment and uneasiness. This is England's stumbling-block. While 
following a brilliant foreign policy, she has been tyrannical at 
home. She will do well if, during the present year, she can quiet 
the irate Irish. The issues are most important, and every step 
in this matter is momentous. 

France has done her best to annoy her old enemy. Her last 
attempt to provoke a quarrel was so outrageous that she was com- 
pelled to make indemnification. Still, England has stuck to her 
peace policy. Perhaps in the case of the false prophet she has 


curried it a little too far. The troops of El Mahdi have flooded 
the Soudan ; and so great is their fanatical zeal that, so far, they 
have overcome every obstacle, and may now, at any moment, 
pour into Egypt proper. Egypt is powerless against them, and 
England will give no assistance so long as El Mahdi confines his 
operations to the Soudan. It is more than doubtful if this course 
of action is wise. Sir Samuel Baker, Dr. Schweinfurth and Col. 
Gordon, all men conversant with the condition of Egypt and 
other parts of Africa, violently oppose it. They urge that El 
Mahdi will probably adopt his ancestors' convenient method of 
paying expenses, i. e., selling his prisoners as slaves to the Asiatic 
nations. By the revival of the slave trade, the last thirty years' 
work in civilizing Africa will be undone. But further, if the 
Soudan be taken, lower Egypt will lose entire control of the Nile. 
Of late years, during the approach of the flood, daily telegrams 
from Khartum to Cairo have announced the increase in the height 
of the descending deluge, thus giving the natives time to 
strengthen and repair the river embankments. Should this tele- 
graphic communication be cut off, the great river will rush down 
as of old, carrying with it as much ruin as blessing. Again, 
much of the Soudan is most fertile and produces cotton and 
wheat on a large scale; that part of the country which is now a 
desert could be fertilized by artificial irrigation, and thus treble 
its agricultural resources. These articles of consumption would 
be useful to England in case of war, for she depends largely 
upon foreign produce, and the passage from Egypt is better pro- 
tected than that from any other country. 

The capture of the Soudan will leave lower Egypt open to 
attacks from Abyssinia which she cannot resist. England cannot 
afford to lose Egypt, and it is impossible to separate Egypt from 
the Soudan. She must be the ally of both, or she must evacuate 
the country. 

France, Madagascar and China are hopelessly entangled in 
war. The French government lost its real head, Gambetta, 
during the first week of last year ; since when, her weak and 
inefficient Cabinet has gone from bad to worse. Great schemes 


have been projected, found impracticable, and abandoned. In 
the one instance of the Senegal railway, millions of dollars were 
foolishly sunk. The treasury deficit has been enormous, Avhile 
expenses are increasing. The French nation cannot understand 
the policy of its own government, and protests vainly against a 
Cabinet Secret Society. Not a question has been openly and 
fairly discussed and decided. The President and his council beat 
about the bush for months in the matter of religion and the 
clergy, writing conciliatory letters to the Pope, while covertly 
oppressing the priest and decrying his value. The Tonquin 
affairs have been conducted with equal subterfuge. The govern- 
ment veiled its designs by a series of negotiations carried on with 
the Chinese ambassador at home, long after it had taken decisive 
action at the seat of war. The present administration is une- 
qualled for mismanagement. 

In Russia the revolutionary movement is still at its height. 
Repeated attempts on the life of the Czar show that the Terrorist 
will never rest until his aim is accomplished and the great auto- 
cracy overthrown. 

So the year has closed for the political world. The future 
promises all that is bright and prosperous for our own country. 
Clouds are gathering over England, lightened however by the 
hope that now, as in times past, her wisdom will dispel them. 
France and Russia are plunged in gloom. The French govern- 
ment is liable to fall at any time; and if the Russian Socialist 
gain his end, anarchy must ensue for a time, whatever may finally 

What news from the world of adventure ? The polar expe- 
ditions are still prosperous, but we are more interested in the 
wonderful progress which Messrs. de Brazza and Stanley are 
making on the Congo. The possession of this river, which drains 
the whole of south-western Africa, would be invaluable, and the 
rival discoverers are disputing every inch of its course. The 
work of these men is equally brilliant, and, through their united 
exertions, the last great division of the world will doubtless, in 
a few years, be brought within the influence of Christianity and 

ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 107 


During the past decade, pamphlets, treatises and novels, con- 
cerning the gigantic Socialistic Movement in Russia, have been 
widely circulated in Europe and America, and yet, few people 
have a clear idea of its character and importance. Most of these 
works are written by foreigners who write from hearsay, or by 
Russians who, on account of their restricted press, can touch but 
lightly upon matters concerning the Nihilists. We read, there- 
fore, with eagerness, a book whose author is a refugee, and has 
been an active participant in the stirring scenes he depicts. Such 
is "Underground Russia," by Stepniak. These pages glow with 
love and zeal for this struggle for liberty. They make us live, 
nay, sympathize with the revolutionists in their fearful work. 
Stepniak, at the outset, objects to the name by which the Russian 
agitators are known to Europe and the world. Nihilism, he tells 
us, was a literary and philosophical movement which sprang up 
between 1860 and 1870. It labored not for civil, but for moral 
freedom from the thraldom of custom and bigotry. It merely 
prepared the way for the Revolution, by emancipating the mind 
from intellectual bondage ; and, in so doing, it placed woman on 
an equality with man. It gave her the education for which she 
had so long craved. It overthrew religion, and left to the op- 
pressed Russians for a foundation upon which to begin the strug- 
gle, fierce passions bridled only by a keen sense of justice Its 
work was then at an end. Its negations made way for the ardent 
-young revolutionist. The Russian student returned from the col- 
leges of Germany and Switzerland, burning with the desire not 
to ponder evils, but to achieve salvation for the oppressed peas- 
ant, too debased to know his condition. Delicate women and men, 
reared in luxury, went about among the poorer classes, endur- 
ing cold, hunger and the hard toil to which they were unac- 
customed, to teach " the gospel of our age." But this stage also 
passed away. Men saw that action, as well as doctrine, was 
needed to relieve the mass of misery they everywhere encoun- 


tered. The government was too obstinate to yield to the wishes 
of the people; force must then be used, and the government ter- 
rified, for the revolution, must succeed. The mighty Terrorist 
girded him for the conflict. Torture, imprisonment, death were 
before him and he knew it. The secret press had proved insuf- 
ficient as a weapon against the civil authority. So followed the 
Moscow mine, the explosion under the Winter Palace, and the 
other attempts which ended in the assassination of the Czar in 
1881. To the Terrorist, the Czar's death was a means to the 
attainment of the great end, and as such, he rejoiced in it. 

Daring in its denunciations, vivid in its pictures, almost over- 
powering in its fascination, this book is yet mournful in its dark- 
ness. "Socialism is our God," this is its battle cry, "for it we 
labor, for it we live, for it we die ; martyrdom is welcome, if our 
religion, our god triumphs." In this spirit its heroes go 
forth to overcome despotic rule, which in this nineteenth 
century, grinds down the minds and actions of their fellow- 
countrymen. The movement embraces thousands of indi- 
viduals ; many of them of brilliant learning and the highest 
influence in the empire, full of the noblest ideas, struggling to 
benefit the human race, but openly contemptuous of religion, 
and, while working for freedom, in chains to the grossest mate- 
rialism. Yet this people, living in hourly peril, renouncing all 
pleasure, toiling and dying for their fellow-men, are in their lives 
fulfilling thus much of the Gospel law. They are the blind 
leading the blind, while yearning for that perfect day which 
through their unassisted reason they will never find. 

The present condition of the Greek Church as it is described 
by travellers, is deplorable. It resembles the Irish Church in 
the bigotry and ignorance of its priests. These men, absorbed 
in their own affairs and unmindful of the duties of their office, 
have never had any hold upon the higher classes of Russia, and 
the only religion of the peasants is a gross superstition. No 
wonder the agitators have no sympathy with this "tottering edi- 
fice" as Stepniak calls it, and that it fell before the " blasts of 
reason." Yet the dogmas of this church are pure; and its 
nobler members have sought union with our own. 


[n the light of recent events, the sinister warning of the "Ex- 
eentive Committee" appended to this work, assumes a terrible 
reality. " Regicide is popular in Russia, your Majesty," was 
the threat given Alexander III. when he ascended the throne; 
and he has found it so. A month since an almost fatal attack was 
made upon him by a party of disguised men. The would-be 
assassins were not taken, the depth of snow concealing their flight ; 
but no one hesitates to lay the attempt to the Nihilists. 

Yet the demands of this party are reasonable. " Give us 
freedom of the press, of speech, of public meeting and of elec- 
toral addresses, and we will submit unconditionally to the National 
Assembly." It is the violent measures they adopt which are 
abhorrent to the civilized world. Incorporate Christianity with 
this struggle, and it would become the grandest social movement 
of our time. 


The pretty Christmas presents mentioned in our last num- 
ber, were long since finished, and sent on their kindlv way. 
Cards of every shape and size, dear little sachets and book- 
marks, porcelain and china — in fact a more charming collection 
of amateur bric-a-brac treasures could hardly be imagined. 
Pansies, roses, " nodding violets," each and all were reproduced 
upon delicately tinted pauels and satin, artfully pinned or sewed 
in every conceivable position. Cunning little cherubs peeped 
cautiously from behind silver crescents, or saucily laughed a 
"Merry Xmas" from a honeysuckle bower. Dear little two- 
year-olds with dollies tightly hugged, timidly lisped their little 

" Me an' my dolly 

Has turn dis long way, 
On purpose to wis' 'on 
A bright Christmas dav." 


The demand for these beauties was incessant, and they were 
sent "east and west and north and south." Flocks of swallows 
flew away, away, to dear ones with glad and loving greetings. 
Lovely landscapes with leafy trees and merry streamlets "silver 
clear," quiet snow scenes lighted by the moon-beams, and 
peaceful little churches, were brightened with sprays of bitter- 
sweet, periwinkles, and holly. So many were the designs — and 
the last always more "perfectly lovely" than any predecessor — 
that we voted our Art-teacher the most ingenious of mortals. 
Now who can censure our burst of righteous indignation as we 
read an article of a recent exchange "Against Christmas Cards?" 
It has even been suggested — O, horrible thought ! — that a tax 
shall be levied upon them. 

Something new in china-painting made its appearance this 
Christmas. Large cake and fruit-plates were decorated with land- 
scapes in monochrome. Little tete-a-tete sets were painted in the 
same manner. Porcelain tiles and clay jars were likewise orna- 
mented. It is a noticeable fact that figures and scenery are fast 
superseding flowers. 

One present received in the house, as valuable for its utility as 
for its beauty, was a large and handsome copy of Dante's " In- 
ferno," splendidly illustrated by Gustave Dor6. It was planned 
that we should read this volume on Friday evenings; but we 
must confess the reading progresses slowly, for a large propor- 
tion of our time is consumed in admiring the marvellous illus- 
trations of this master. We would not take upon ourselves to 
affirm the peculiar merits of each picture, but we may be allowed 
timidly to advance, subject to correction, our views. The cuts 
which most impressed us were the punishments in the second 
circle, where 

" The stormy blast of hell 
With restless fury drives the spirits on ;" 

the burning of arch-heretics, each in his solitary tomb; and the 
pictures of those guilty of suicide, who were cast down to the 
dark wood, changed into rough and knotted trees, growing as 
they fell. "Here the brute Harpies make their nest." The 


tortures of the seventh and ninth circles are no less ibrcibly por- 
trayed. In the one, 

"Unceasing was the play of wretched hands, 
Now this, now that way glancing, to shake off 
The heat still falling fresh." 

In the other 'tis said of the wretched headless sufferer, 

" Bv the hair 

It hore the severed member, lantern-wise 
Pendent in hand, which looked at us and said 
' Woe's me !' " 

But by far the most horrible picture is that of Satan himself, 
fixed in the centre of hell and of earth. All the streams of 
guilt flow back to him as their source, and the six gigantic wings 
with which he strives to raise himself, create a terrible wind, freez- 
ing him more tightly in the marsh. 

What a mighty genius was Dore's! excelling not more in the 
sublime and terrible than in the soft and peaceful. We look at 
the myriads of damned souls forever whirling deeper and deeper 
into the fathomless abyss, until we see them move, and hear them 
speak to us of their eternal woe. Then our thoughts turn to his 
latest work, where flights of augels descend to the Arena to bear 
away the martyred souls "from pangs and exile into th' eternal 
peace." And again we repeat, what a mighty genius was Dora's! 

For reasons given by a sister-editor, all items concerning 
Dante are of the greatest interest to us. We have therefore 
eagerly perused the latest issues of the " Century," and of the 
" Art Treasures of America." The "Century" gives tracings of 
the only two authentic portraits of Dante now in existence. The 
one, taken in his youth, by Giotto, the other, the well-known 
"Death-Mask." The first was painted when Dante was about 
twenty years old, before the struggles of life had begun. The 
beautiful features show the buoyancy of youth — of youth en- 
dowed with singular powers, 

"The poet in a golden clime was born 
With golden stars above ; 
Dowered with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, 
The love of love." 

112 8T. MARY' 8 MUSE. 

We can trace the gradual deepening of the lines about the 
mouth in Ary Scheffer's "Dante and Beatrice," the finest exam- 
ple of spiritual expression achieved in our century. But in the 
"Death-Mask" is seen the change wrought by thirty years of 
hard trials. The face is that of a man of sorrows. Its lines 
have hardened into a perpetual scorn, distrust, and sense of 
wrong. But they only the more strongly stamp the world's 
poet, who 

" saw thro' life and death, thro' good and ill, 

He saw thro' his own soul." 
"Freedom reared in that august sunrise, 
Her beautiful bold brow, ****** 
And in her raiments' hem was traced in flame 
Wisdom, a name to shake 
All evil dreams of power — a sacred name. 
* * * * * * No sword 
Of wrath her right arm whirl'd, 
But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word 
She shook the world." 

In the " Art Treasures " we find, besides many beautiful engrav- 
ings, most charming synopses of American galleries. The 
President of the Boston Museum, Mr. Perkins, is said to be in- 
comparably the ablest chief of any gallery in this country. 
Some valuable specimens of foreign art have been recently 
donated to the Museum. Among others, "Dante and Virgil," 
presented by Mr. Q. H. Shaw, and Vincenzo Vela's exquisite 
bust of Dante. The Gray gallery of engravings is the best in 
any country. 

Mr. Shaw's collection is one of the most exquisite cabinets of 
a special kind in the world. It contains the principal works of 
the French artist Millet. The "Priory of Vaucluse" is the 
subject of twenty-one oil paintings and thirty framed drawings and 
pastels, embracing every phase of the artist's genius. Beautiful 
specimens of Millet's works can also be found in the choice and 
fastidious collection of Mr. Premier. 

The gallery of Mr. Crocker at San Francisco contains one 
painting of unusual note, "Cambyses at Pelusium," by Paul 


Lenoir, an engraving of which is given in the "Art Treasures." 
In the foreground the conqueror, riding at full speed a fiery 
charger, tosses from a huge basket poor little cats high in the 
air, some falling over city walls, others crushed by the 
body of horse galloping in the rear. Against the walls cower 
the Egyptians, hiding their eyes from the sacrilegious sacrifice 
of their gods. Here we find, also, beautiful engravings of "Art 
and Literature," " War Booty," and "Last Days of a Malefac- 
tor." Many of Daubigny's landscapes, "flashing bits of sun- 
light," are scattered among: these collections. 

In connection with Daubigny, we are reminded of the late 
forgeries in art, as his name has suffered perhaps more than any 
other. The wholesale forging of great names to pictures 
executed by hack artists is at present creating great excitement 
in art circles. The "American Connoisseur" gives many remark- 
able accounts of the recent frauds abroad, and also some very 
ludicrous instances of failures in the so-called "connoisseur" to 
detect these impostures; reminding us forcibly of that familiar 
but ever-welcome poem, beginning 

" Who stuft'ed that white owl ?" 

FOUNDED 1842, 





jJUgpA Corps of Fourteen Efficient Instructors. Thorough 
teaching guaranteed. French taught by a native; German by an 
American educated in Germany. Latin a requisite for a full 
Diploma. Great attention is paid to Mathematics and Compo- 



Separate buildings ; five teachers — one from the Stuttgart, one 
from the Leipsic Conservatory; a fine Vocalist; sixteen Pianos 
for daily practice — two new Concert Grands for concert use; 
a Cabinet Organ; a fine Pipe Organ, with two manuals and 
twenty stops, and the only Pedal Piano south of New York. 


Under the charge of able and enthusiastic artists. The Course 
comprises Drawing in Pencil, Crayon and Charcoal; Painting in 
Oil, Water Colors and Pastel, and Decorating China in Minerals. 

jfgpThe Physical Development of the pupils thoroughly 
cared for. 


For Circulars containing full particulars, apply to the Rector. 


%, Qnarlcrltj darpine, 



Vol. VI. RALEIGH, N. C. MAY, 1884. No. 3. 

The State Institution fok the Deaf, Dumb and the Blind — 

Margaret Roivlett, Sen. B '. 115 < 

A 'Possum Hunt — Leah McClenaghan, Sen. B 125 

Our Last Trip Abroad — Maud S. Cunningham, Sen. B 131 

A Sunday-School Picnic — Fanny M. Hardin, Jim. B 136 

Two Kings— Anna H. Lewis, Sen. B 139 ' 

Slide Mountain — Marie L. Hoyt, Jun. G 143 

Ouk Visit to Itaiy — Bessie W. McLean, Jun. B 141 

A Wiseacre — Sophia D. Thurmond, Sen. B 148 

Editorial— Emilie R. Smedes 154 

Current Topics — 

Tlie Xorlh Carolina Exposition — Alice M. Hagood 158 i 

» Reform — The Wagnerian Singers — Emilie W. McVea 162 i 

Book-Notice— Hake's Story of Chinese Gordon — Emilie \V. MrVea, 164 
Musical Notes — 

Kemenyi — Martha .1. Doivd 166 

Wagner — Rubinstein — Peganini (from the German) — §. Isabel 

Graves 167 




Entered at tie Post Office in Raleign at second-class rates. 


Vol. VI. Raleigh, N. C, May, 1884. No. 3. 


The Raleigh Asylum for the Deaf, Dumb and Blind is a 
State institution, founded in 1845. There was much difficulty 
in obtaining; money to build it, and at one time work was sus- 
pended for lack of funds, until Mrs. Thomas P. Devereux con- 
tributed a large sum. For a few years it was a small institu- 
tion for the deaf and dumb. Afterwards it was enlarged for the 
reception of the blind. It was the first institution of the kind 
in the South, and is now the largest, comprising two distinct 
departments, managed by separate corps of teachers. The Deaf, 
Dumb and Blind Asylum for the colored people, a branch of 
this institution, is situated in the eastern part of the city, a little 
over a mile distant. The asylum is very large, and is built of 
brick, stuccoed. The walls extend above the roof and are 
ornamented at the ton. From each side of the main building*. 
which is surrounded by a large square tower, extends a wing, 
and in front of these there are two long, broad piazzas. The 
main building is four stories high, while the wings are only three. 
At a distance the asylum looks like the old gray stone castles we 
read of in story-books. 

People visiting the Institute are first conducted to the library. 
The books — of which there are twocases — were purchased in 1877, 
with the accumulated interest on three thousand dollars, donated 
before the war to the deaf and dumb children of Xorth Caro- 
lina by John Kelly, of Orange county. Since 1877, by an 
order of the Board of Trustees, the interest has been yearly in- 


vested in books for the benefit of the pupils of the institution. 
As you enter the room, the first object which attracts your atten- 
tion is a glass-case filled with crocheted tidies, edging and mats. 
These are the works of the deaf and dumb girls. Just opposite 
is a similar case containing the handiwork of the blind. It 
hardly seems credible that the little baskets, necklaces, and watch- 
cases made of tiny colored beads could have been done without 
sight. The work is even and the colors are tastefully contrasted. 
I noticed that all the beeds used by one of the girls were green 
and white, and I was told she would use no other color. In a 
corner, near one of the low, broad windows, is the bust of Laura 
D. Bridgeman, who was educated at the Institution for the Blind 
at Boston. She was brought there a short while before her 
eighth birthday, in a pitiable condition, having lost the senses 
of sight, speech, hearing and taste by scarlet fever. She made 
rapid progress and acquired an excellent education. The Har- 
per's for February tells us that lately, in the evening of her days, 
she has given expression to her reflections in a form that is highly 
poetic, even though her lines do not follow the modern models of 

When I visited the asylum I wished to hear the geography 
lesson recited, so one of the oldest girls was led to the map and 
told to say all she knew about Europe. The primary classes 
have dissected iron maps. The children are allowed to take 
these apart, so as to form some idea of the shape of each state. 
The advanced classes have wooden maps. On these the bound- 
ary lines and mountains are raised; the rivers are represented 
by indentations, the cities by brass knobs, and the capitals by 
larger knobs. The pupil first found the continent, and then 
passed her hand slowly over it, telling something about every 
citv, river, mountain and gulf she touched. She even went so far 
as to relate some interesting historical facts connected with the 
cities. By the time she had finished, I had come to the conclu- 
sion that blind girls knew much more about geography and his- 
torv than do those who are able to see for themselves. In mathe- 
matics, the primary classes used slates with movable blocks, 


mi which the raised numbers are printed. In the more advanced 
classes, the method is entirely oral. I was much surprised at 
the length of the examples given. Problems in cube root were 
worked without any apparent exertion. When I see a girl sit- 
ting down with her pencil in her mouth and a most woe-be-gone 
expression on her face, begging that "some one will please help 
me, I can't work that example," I can but think of the blind 
children, who, without even paper or pencil, solve problems in 
Partial Payments. I have often wished that I could multiply, 
divide, and take the square or cube root of large numbers in my 
head. If we find it pleasant to know how to write the square 
and cube of quantities in the form of a-[-b, and that the product 
of the sum and difference of two quantities is equal to the differ- 
ence of their squares, how much more pleasure must they find 
who are able to do everything by quick mental process? I did 
not hear the algebra and geometry classes recite, but I have 
been told that the clearness with which demonstrations are given 
is wonderful. Compositions are required once or twice a month. 
Some of these are oral and some are written in the dot-writing. 
I saw one of the compositions which had been copied and kept 
by the teacher. The subject was " Friendship." The writer 
likened friendship to the tendrils of a vine which clasp them- 
selves around everything that they come in contact with. 
Just think what fun it would be to have oral compositions 
now and then as do these pupils. We should not have to nerve 
ourselves to the sight of a composition after correction. No 
lines like rivers, bearing on their waves the word " Reconstruct," 
would flow down the margin ; no terrible black marks would 
annihilate our pet sentiments, and leave one despised, common 
sentence to become the beginning of another attempt. 

Who has ever tried to write a line with his eyes shut without 
laughing at the unintelligible hieroglyphics which result? He 
who has, can, to some degree, form an idea of how difficult it is 
to teach a blind person to write. Some of the difficulties have 
been overcome by the invention of a writing-tablet. This is 
something like a washing-board, being formed of successive 


ridges ; to it paper is fastened with clamps ; the small let- 
ters are made in the indented parts, while the long letters extend 
to the top of the ridges. By using this for sometime, the pupils 
acquire evenness in writing; still there remains the difficulty of 
connecting the letters. It is very puzzling to read what the blind 
write, because one part of a word is sometimes entirely separate 
from the other, and sometimes a letter from one word is joined 
to the next word. 

Books in the raised type are too expensive to be used as text- 
books; so in nearly all the classes, immediately after the lesson 
for the day has been recited, the teacher reads that for the next 
day. In the evening after tea, the lessons are rehearsed, and by 
that time the pupils are expected to know them. 

The musical department at the Institute is under the direction 
of J. A. Simpson, A. M., himself blind. There are five pianos 
and three cabinet organs, besides a handsome pipe organ in the 
Chapel. It is the highest ambition of the music scholars to be able 
"to take lessons on the big organ, under Mr. Simpson." In 
learning music, the pupils have to depend entirely upon the mem- 
ory and ear, as of course the notes are no help. Great attention 
is paid to such music. The pupils are taught in classes and the 
best voices have private training. Before I went to the Insti- 
tute, I had an idea that it would be painful to see the blind ; 
but in this I was mistaken; I do not think I ever saw a crowd 
of school children brighter or more full of fun than were they. 
I was surprised to find that when recess came, instead of run- 
ning out to play, they always remained in the school-room with 
their teachers of whom they are very fond. One of the ladies 
told me that when the bell for recess rings the children flock 
around her, each one anxious to touch her hand or smooth her 
hair. She said that they often pass their hands over her face to 
learn the shape of her features, and that she had been asked by 
more than one child if she always looked neat. 

When I had visited every place of interest in the department 
for the blind, the friend who was taking me around, said : "You 
have not seen the most interesting part of the Institute; we have 


I . 

yet to visit the deaf and dumb side. This department is en- 
tirely distinct, the children have little intercourse with those of 
the other, and the chapels are separate. All the new methods of 
teaching deaf-mutes are used. I especially enjoyed an "Articu- 
lation Class." 

Some of the children are taken from houses where they have 
had every comfort. These are prepared, in some degree, to 
beo-in to learn. But bv far the greater number have been taken 
from poor-houses and haunts of misery. These have to unlearn 
even what they know. The question is how to begin to teach 
both classes. Here is a person ignorant of the names of the 
objects connected with his daily life and of every idea of sound. 
He is to learn to read and write, and to work at a trade by 
which he can earn his daily bread. When he is brought to the 
Institute no time is lost. He is immediately taken into the 
school-room so as to become accustomed to his teacher and school- 
mates. If the children are to learn "Articulation," the teacher 
begins by writing on the board all the different sounds, and the 
pupils are taught to articulate these separately. In order to do 
this, the teacher articulates the sounds herself while they watch 
the movements of every muscle of her face and hold their hands 
before her mouth to feel how she breathes during the process. 
The next step is to teach them words. A simple word is written 
on the board, the teacher points to the different sounds which 
compose it, and the children articulate them successively. After- 
wards the teacher shows them a picture of the object represented. 
In this way many words are learned. Next the pupils study 
sentences. The greatest difficulty is to teach them the formation 
of these. After they know the words they often place them in' 
the wrong order and make very ludicrous mistakes. One of the 
boys was told to write, " A bad man hit a woman with an axe." 
The boy wrote, "A man hit an axe with a bad woman." The 
teacher pronounced all of her words very slowly and distinctly, 
and the pupils learn to understand by the motions of her lips. 
It is not necessary to speak aloud, but only to make the motions 
accurately. To exercise the pupils in interpreting these motions, 


in spelling, and in pronouncing, they are required to write sen- 
tences on the board. Some of the children were very bright and 
attentive, while others seemed incapable of learning. One little 
boy who had been to school only three years, wrote a legible 
hand, pronounced very well and understood every word uttered 
by his teacher. I was told that some of the children have won- 
derful memories. In the arithmetic class, they remember the 
answers to the examples they have had the day before; and, 
without taking the trouble to work those given them, they write 
the examples on the board and under them the other answers. 
This is an evidence not only of their wonderful memories, but of 
the slow development of their reasoning powers. Work is almost 
entirely mechanical. Their reasoning powers are not yet strong 
enough to show them that one answer will not serve for every 

The manual alphabet is still used, although the language of 
signs has, to a great degree, taken its place. This latter mode of 
conveying ideas is based upon the gestures devised by uneducated 
deaf-mutes and resembling those employed by savages. The 
signs are: pointing to objects, expressions of motions, and rep- 
resentations by the hands of the use and shape of articles. 
This system is of great service in teaching, but it is stiff and 
cumbrous in conversation. At the Raleigh Institute the sign 
language is taught by two brothers, deaf-mutes educated at the 
Xorth. I spent a great part of my time in one of their advanced 
classes. To show the difference between the teaching by the sign 
language and by articulation, I will quote the words of one of 
the children: "All deaf-mutes must be educated by the eye. 
The articulation pupils see words spoken on the lips, while we 
see them spoken on the hands." When we entered the room, 
the children were sitting at their desks writing. The teacher 
informed us that it was letter-day, and that the pupils were writ- 
ing to their parents, a monthly duty. The letters were first writ- 
ten on the slate, aud, after being corrected by the teacher, were 
copied with pen and ink. Then the teacher wrote on his slate 
that he would show us how he taught his pupils new words. 


First lie put on the board the word prank. To explain the 
meaning of this word he placed one of the boys in the teacher's 
chair and, giving him writing materials, bade him go to work. 
While the boy was busily engaged, the teacher played pranks on 
him, such as stealing the ink or cracking him on the head with 
the poker. By the time the explanation was finished every one 
was in a roar of laughter and all understood the meaning of 
prank. This is the way in which they learn, gaining daily an 
average of six new words. 

In the deaf and dumb department of the Institute the high- 
est class in mathematics has advanced no farther than compound 
numbers in arithmetic. At first I was much surprised at this, 
for I saw very few children who did not have remarkably bright 
faces; but second thought showed me that it was wonderful thev 
ever learned arithmetic at all. Cut off from all human inter- 
course, their minds on entering school are in the same state as 
those of infants. The blind begin with quite a little store of 
knowledge, picked up from hearing people talk and from 
having things described to them. But the chief reason why the 
blind succeed so much better in mathematics, is that reasoning 
demands hearing more than it does sight. In concrete quantities 
both are equal; for while the deaf and dumb can see, the blind 
can feel. But in abstract quantities the blind have the advan- 
tage, because abstract reasoning reaches the mind through the ear. 
As algebra and the higher mathematics deal chiefly in this kind 
of quantities, they are almost impossible to the deaf and dumb. 
The grammar class was very interesting. The teacher was illus- 
trating the passive forms, and after explaining the difference 
between the active and passive voices, in order to be sure that 
the children understood him, he wrote on the board three char- 
acters. The first stood for a noun in the nominative, the second, 
an active verb, and the last a noun in the objective case. The 
whole showed that he wished them to give a sentence of this con- 
struction. There was a very peculiar sentence given to illustrate 
the passive verb: "Sour whiskey is drunk by rich men." This 
structure was grammatically correct, but the proposition was false. 


Every time this was the case the teacher had to stop and explain 
why it was so. The children have to be taught to form the sim- 
plest thoughts. The process is painfully slow, but it has so far 
succeeded with some that they have gained a good knowledge of 
science and a few have made themselves known in the world 
of poetry and of art. In the April number of Harper's 
there appeared an article entitled "The Poetry of the Deaf and 
Dumb." It began: "Edgar Allan Poe, in his essay on 'The 
Poetic Principle/ defines the 'Poetry of Words' as 'the rhyth- 
mical creation of beauty.' 'Contenting myself/ he says, 'with 
the certainty that music, in its various modes of meter, rhythm 
and rhyme, is of so vast a moment in poetry as never to be wisely 
rejected — is so vitally important an adjunct that he is simply 
silly who declines its assistance, I will not now pause to main- 
tain its absolute essentiality/" 

According to this, the writer judges that it seems impossible 
for one congeuitally deaf, and so ignorant of music, to be a poet; 
and it is not possible that those who have lost their hearing at 
an early age, can retain sufficient idea of music to write poetry. 
Yet there have been poets among the deaf and dumb. Among 
the selections given in the article referred to, there are some in 
which, " The mental condition of those to whom sound is only a 
memory, is well expressed." 

Amos Draper says : 

" They are like one who shuts his eyes to dream 
Of some bright vista in his fading past; 
A stream of music floats to the dull ear, 
Or low melodious murmur of a voice, 
'Till all the chords of harmony vibrant are 
With consciousness of deeply slumbering pow'rs." 

Augie Fuller begins a lovely poem: 

" No sound ! except the echoes of the past, 
Seeming at times, in tones now loud, now low, 
The voices of a congregation vast, 
Praising the God from whom all blessings flow."' 

ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 123 

Often we see in their lines a great suitableness of meter. As 
the following by John Carlin: 

"Awake, ye sparklers, bright and gay, 
Still nestling in your lair! 
The twilight glories fade away 
And gloom pervades the air. 
Come, then, ye merry elves of light, 
Illuminate the tranquil night, 
While low and high ye blithely fly, 
Flitting meteors 'neath the sky." 

One would think that the poetry of the deaf and dumb 
would be the expression of peculiar thoughts; for many things 
which excite in us emotions of pleasure or pain make no impres- 
sion on them. It does not seem natural that the blind should 
write on color, neither should we think that a deaf-mute would 
write on harmony. Yet they do write on music, and their 
descriptions often adapt sound to sense, as these lines by the 
John Carlin mentioned before will show: 

"The trees are hushed, the streamlets still, 
The frogs their vigils keep; 
The nodding grain on yonder hill 
And flowers together sleep." 

As I passed through the different classes and looked at the 
bright faces of the pupils, I would not help thinking that there 
might be some genius among them, perhaps a Carlin or a Ivitto. 

My thoughts descended from poetry to more every-day sub- 
jects as I weut down to see the workshops, situated in the base- 
ment. Here the boys are taught to make brooms, boots, shoes 
and beds, and to bottom chairs. Every evening the pupils from 
the Deaf and Dumb and Blind Institute for the Colored, come 
up to work in the shops. There is a nice little kitchen fitted up 
with all kinds of cooking utensils. I looked in, and everything 
was in perfect order, the tins were as bright as new pins, and 
the tables looked as if they had just been scoured. There were 
ever so many girls in large aprons, and with sleeves tucked up 
above the elbows, running hither and thither, doing all the work 

124 .ST. MARY'S MUSE. 

they could find. Over all perfect silence reigned. I could not 
help contrasting it with the kitchen at home, where the cook's 
tongue is forever running at head- long speed ; and I made up 
my mind that, if ever I had a house of my room, I would hire 
a deaf and dumb cook. Every Friday evening the colored girls 
come for cooking-lessons. In the afternoons the recitation-rooms 
are turned into work-rooms for the blind girls. How the blind 
can sew is a mystery. They make all kinds of garments and 
even sew on the machine. It seems as if the latter would be 
dangerous for them, but I have never heard of an accident. 

The officers of the Institution are in favor of erecting new 
buildings for the deaf and dumb, outside of the city limits, 
and appropriating the present buildings entirely to the blind. 
One reason is that the pupils of the two departments do not live 
peaceably together, and on both sides there is a great desire for 
the division. It would be of no benefit to the blind to be in 
the country; on the contrary, town-life is much more instructive 
to them. To the deaf and dumb, a country-life would be very 
advantageous. The officers contend that machinerv has flooded 
the country with brooms, boots, and beds much cheaper than the 
pupils can make them; therefore, a great number Avho have tried 
these trades have failed. If there was an institution for the 
deaf and dumb outside the city, the trustees could buy land 
and have the boys taught to work it. Farming is a trade always 
to be depended upon. Working on the farm would be healthy, 
and at the same time profitable, as the poultry and vegetables 
could be used on the table. The meadows would furnish food 
for the cattle, which in time would supply the Institution with 
one of the most wholesome articles of food. This plan has been 
laid before the Legislature two or three times, and has been 
opposed on the score of economy. However, a spirit of great 
perseverance is shown, and the plan will again be brought up at 
the next session, when it is thought the bill for its execution will 
be passed. 

ST. .VARY'S MUSE. 125 


It was supper hour at the plantation, aud as Jim, the gruff 
butler, sounded the huge bell, an unusual light twinkled in his 
merry eye. In the long hall where the evening meal was spread, 
the same spirit of suppressed joy showed plainly that there was 
something extraordinary up among the servants. Their gleeful 
movements as they brought in dishes or handed the steaming tea, 
their whispered remarks, low titters, and covert winks, all seemed 
to foretell some great and secret fun in store. As the evening 
More on and young "Miss" still sipped at her tea and crumbled 
her rake, while "Master" continued to read that everlasting old 
newspaper, scowls, fists shaken on the sly, and sundry other 
menacing gestures showed how hardly the poor servants could 
restrain their impatience. When at last the unconscious intruders 
withdrew, Jim twirled the big carving-knife thrice around his 
head and bade his fellow-servants hurry up, for even now they 
might not be too late. There was no need of ursine- ? never was 
dining-room put in order more quickly. Then the house-servants 
rushed to the negro-quarters as though life and death were in the 

A large bonfire threw a rich red glow far into the darkness, 
bringing out in painful relief the long line of dingy huts in its 
rear; and the motley crew of Africans,— men, women, and chil- 
dren — dancing in its light, might well seem cannibals, preparing 
some horrid meal. Xearer by, the scene is harmless enough. 
From a huge cask of persimmon beer, dripping cans circle 
round. Each darky vies with his neighbor in rude jest and loud 
laughter. A few ugly-looking curs creeping about, seeking 
what they may devour, complete the picture. 

The "Buckra niggars," as the house-servants are termed, were 
received as honored guests. They were cheered, drawn up to the 
fire, and treated to beer, while every one tried to drink their 
health the greatest number of times. Presently a big old grizzle- 
pate who was apparently the leader, ordered the merry-makers, 


to stop " Foolin en come down ter bizness." Forthwith he lifted 
a prodigious gourd to his mouth, calling out, "I drink ter ebery 
niggar dis night engage, in de hope dat ebery one ob yer kichen 
fires may roas a big fat possum fer brekfas in de mornin." 
Which speech was hailed with deafening cheers. 

"And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, 
That one small head could carry all lie knew." 

This sentiment was expressed by a little fellow at the great 
toaster's feet, who piped up, " Lor, chillun, you allers ken count 
on 'Unker' Sam and trus him ter fix up ebery thing in de bes 
ob style, fer de fine speech dat man ken fix up is better den 
clapper en lasses." 

At this point, Sam gave two or three rallying toots from a 
dirty little horn tied about his neck, and which he, no doubt, 
thought highly ornamental. If this was to call up the stray 
dogs, it had no effect; and it was only after reiterated shouts for 
"Roderic Dhu, Abe Lincoln, Stone-eye-Jackson, Beauregard, 
Wade Hampton, Grant," and several others, that these famous 
gentlemen at last appeared. "Now, aint you nice," bawled out 
the angry master, " to hide yer ugly skins when de woods am 
jest full ob nice meat." As he accompanied these words with 
fearful flourishes of a long leather-lash, Roderic and his fellows 
did indeed look meek and humiliated. All were now ready aud 
waiting and, as Sambo led off to the neighboring forest, each 
hunter supplied himself with a flaming torch and tramped after. 

Now it happened that between the negro quarter and the 
woods lay a broad field of corn, almost ready for the harvest. 
As they neared it, Jim, the butler, observed, "Lor, chillun, 
seems ter me dis bout time fer '' Bro. Coon ' to be sharpnin he 
grinders on dese here roasin-years; en I know it am full time 
fer me ter be crackin coon bones. Any how it can't be bery 
long afore 'Massa' he'll be sayin: 

" ' James ! ' 

"<Sah/ sezl. 

"'You — ah — yes, James.' Den he'll jest rub he two hands 
together, den he'll stick out one foot so fashion, en he'll lean 


our back en sport he gol cane so fashion." Here James got 
himself into a position which they all knew so well that the 
whole crowd declared, "Shos we'ar live, dat am de spit image ob 
'Bos,' en no mistake about it." "Then," went on James, 
"when he git ranged like dat, and when he done clar he throat 
seberal time, he say: 

"'James, my man; have yon in your lately obserwations 
round the plantation seen any reperances of the depregations of 
those varmin coons? If such have been the case — well — hem — 
you may just take the fellows out an renihilate them." 

Every one enjoyed this mimicry to the utmost, and Pete, the 
little fellow who had expressed his admiration for Sam's toast, 
now called out, "Lor, 'Unker Jim/ ef you had er only been 
behin er bush, de way dese darkies would er mek tracks would 
er been a caushion. Eben de big words waurs jes like 'Boss' 
fer de work" 

Talking thus, they had approached the swamp-side of the corn 
field, and Pete might have gone on with his eulogium ad infini- 
tum if Sam hadn't turned suddenly round and sent a whispered 
command down the lines, " Ter dry up the racket en halt." 
Next minute he called out in soft tones, "Come on, boys; sof, 
now, for if ' Bro. Coon ' aint somewhere bout dese parts you may 
shoot Sam Gurley. Jes listen at close shucks er ratlin. I wus 
sposin it war bout time fer dat rogue ter be out stealin 'Boss' 
corn. Now we mus ketch dat triflin rascal fust, possum or no 

All agreed on this, so they crept cautiously through the 
rustling fodder toward the spot where the 'coon vigorously 
shucked corn for his supper. On coming near, what was their 
surprise to see by their torches not one, but a pair of fine rac- 
coons. To be sure the little sinners deserved some punishment, 
for in their ecstatsy over the great feast before them, they raced 
from stalk to stalk, pulled the choicest ears, nibbled a few grains, 
and then hurried on to try others. Sam watched their antics, 
aud chuckled to himself as he turned loose three of the best 
dogs, already eager for the fun. They fairly flew at their prey. 


The 'coons saw their enemies soon enough to make some attempt 
at self-preservation ; one scrambled to the top of a very high 
cornstalk, while the other found safer refuge in a stump hard 
by. It is needless to say that the stalk 'coon was readily cap- 
tured, and the dogs, which had not been allowed a taste of him, 
would have soon found out the other had not Sambo tied them 
up, declaring : 

" Dis 'nough 'coon fer one time, don't guess de odder will 
feel like eatin' no more supper to-night no how, as I reckon he 
got de trembles right bad 'bout dis time. Pete," he added, 
" 'fore we go yon might as well fill up one ob dose bags wid 
roas'in' years, fer since ' Bro. Coon' done help hisself so 
bountiful, Massa won't nebber know de difference. Now mek 
has', chillun, fer ef we don't, 'Bro. Possum' will sho' ter git 
wind ob us somehow or 'nother." 

The wild confusion was immediately changed to the most 
perfect order ; and a stranger meeting this long cavalcade of 
torch-bearers might have supposed them bent on some awful 
and mysterious errand. The poor 'possum, who knew the phe- 
nomenon so well, would have told you, as he withdrew trembling 
into the deepest niche of his hollow or rehearsed all his 'pos- 
sum arts, that this was a band of lawless murderers. 

As the negroes entered the forest, the curs were untied, and 
now the only object was to follow the occasional barks which 
the dogs sent forth. As yet u Bro. Possum " was not found 
out. Our hunters could ill brook silence, and in spite of Sambo's 
menacing looks and awful gestures, were beginning to grumble, 
when, hark! What means that joyous outcry? Old Sam's 
hat goes up with a loud hurrah and his white teeth glisten in 
infinite satisfaction. All rushed pell-mell toward the spot 
around which the dogs kept up a furious howling and yelping. 
Along the way, Sambo, between his gasps for breath, kept 
saying: "Now I wished I may die ef that ain't Wade's 
own voice," then a gasp, and, " What I tell you 'bout dat dog ? 
Yes, you bet if dere's one possum in de woods, he'll fin' him." 
Finally, exhausted with running, they fell into a brisk walk ; 


the dogs also seemed to have barked themselves hoarse, for a bay 
now and then alone indicated their whereabouts. Completely 
worn out, they at length reached the much desired goal, a huge 
persimmon tree, near which the dogs kept watch, their tongues 
lolling out, and eves glaring through the darkuess like balls of 
pre. At this sight the party danced with joy, yelping, whooping, 
and urging the curs on. " Go fer him, Wade ! Sic him, Rod ! " 
When thus roused, the famous Wade and his companions were 
not long in adding their loudest din to the general hubbub, and 
their antics soon showed in what direction the game lay. 

" Xow, dat old chap," remarked a young buck, " he cau't go 
in erhole like a reglar decent possum. Step here, Unker Sam, 
and je.s' look at him, settin' up in de bery tip-top, like as if he 
was big folks. Come en look at him, chillun, he look like de 
las' ob pea-pickin'." 

When they really saw " Bro. Possum's" eves shining down 
upon them, their joy knew no bounds. "Off with yer coat, 
Pete ! Up and shake him out ! " was the order from all 
mouths. In a trice this little imp had hauled off his ragged 
jacket and fairly raced up the tree. Shake, shake, shake, went 
the tree. Thud, thud, thud, fell the persimmons. But Master 
Possuin stuck too tight for any such game, and our gallant 
climber at last gave up and came tumbling down in anger and 
disgust. Little time was wasted in debate. If this way would 
not do, thev knew one which would. " Bring dat axe here, 
Jim," called out Sambo. It was promptly handed over, and a 
few strokes told our tree-friend that he must change his quarters. 
Prompt action was all that could possibly save him, so, giving a 
great leap, he fell to the ground in a dead faint. Xow came the 
fun. The dogs were cruelly driven off, while the whole throng- 
fought like madmen for the trophy. Finally Pete struggled up 
from the crowd, almost crushed, it is true, but capering with 
delight, as he hugged the 'possum in his arms. With wide open 
eyes and mouth, all gathered round Pete to examine the treasure. 
They were just going to apply the usual restoratives of fire and 
beating, when the considerate Sambo suggested that they had 


better just unglove him and leave him undisturbed until morn- 
ing. The ungloving consisted in firmly tying the front feet of 
the victim to a young sappling, cutting the skin around the neck 
and hauling it off inside out, leaving the wearer coatless. Which 
being done, the suffering wretch, who still refused to wake, was 
tied hog fashion, thrust into a bag to keep company with the 
'coon, and borne on the way to further conquest. 

Next morning the negroes tried in every way to keep their 
frolic a secret; because they knew that the overseer had posi- 
tively forbidden 'possum hunts, as the laborers always neglected 
their work next day. At the breakfast table the house-keeper's 
keen eyes discovered that something was amiss, and she said in 

her sharpest tones: "Colonel M , I wish you would see to 

the servants, for I am sure something went wrong last night, 
either a hog stealing or some other spree." The Colonel's brow 
clouded, and he called out angrily : 

" James! come here!" 

James stood before him in a twinkling. 

"Now, sir," commanded the angry master, "Explain this mat- 


"Since Mrs. Gaudy dere, sah," rolling his great white eyes in 
a fiendish manner at the house-keeper, "is in sech er hurry, I 
will jes tell you now what it wus my rentention ter tell you when 
you had done eat. It is dis, sah. Las night, when all de darky 
eat he hoe-cake, en go kiver up in de bed, so he kin git all de sleep 
de Lord will gie him, en come do heap ob work in de mornin, 
why dat bery minit we hear er great rearin en racin en fodder 
strippin in de corn patch. So up we gits en tek all de dog en 
put out full tilt fer ter save de Massa corn." 

Here he paused for some commendation, but the Colonel only 
bade him proceed. 

"Lor, when we git dere, Boss," and his eyes grew big as he 
imagined the wonderful scene, "Why Massa, de coons waur jes 
in couples. Some had eat till dey was full up, en dey went prom- 
enadin up en down en cheer de res; jes like dey say 'Hep yerself 
honey, plenty fer eberybody.' But you bet when we cum on 


de scene, der waur a scateration ob coons. An de coon we kill, 
Boss, it waur er caushion. Dat all Massa," and with a low 
bow, James awaited further orders. 

The Colonel smiled, threw him a quarter, and laughingly bade 
him try the same game everv night until the 'coons were exter- 


Will my readers think my story too remarkable if I say that 
we saw the grand old city of Moscow, the modern beauties of 
St. Petersburg, and the wonderful Mt. Vesuvius in one night? 
Such an assertion is not startling to St. Mary's girls, who have 
often taken quite as lengthy and varied tours with the same guide. 

We had been told at dinner that the Bishop was coming. We 
always have our pleasant things at dinner; oranges, tipsy-cake, 
letters, and all sorts of good news — so of course it was the place 
to hear of the Bishop's coming. Eight o'clock saw us gathered 
round his chair. 

" Well, young ladies," he began, "I am glad to see you again. 
It has been a long time since I have been with you all, so 
to-night I decided to come up and have a little talk. There are 
many things which I could tell you about, and I scarcely know 
what to choose. You are all young, and are perhaps planning 
a trip to Europe in the days to come. I do not think I could 
possibly recommend a grander old country to visit than Russia, 
and I will tell you some of the things which we saw there. But 
first we visited Norway and Sweden. One of the principal fea- 
tures of Sweden is its beautiful lakes joined together by canals. 
Sometimes we found ourselves in one of the narrow canals whose 
banks are lined with trees; a few minutes later we were on the 
broad shining bosom of the lake. Then again the steamer drifted 
into another canal ; and so close to the edge of the water were the 
houses that we could see the faces of the occupants. 


We spent several clays in Stockholm, and then set out for St. 
Petersburg. There are two routes to this city from Stockholm ; 
one direct by open sea, the other leading in and out among the 
islands. We chose the latter, travelling from four a. m. to four 
P. M., and resting for the night by one of the islands. We got 
on board the evening previous to setting out, went to bed and to 
sleep. When we awoke we were far on our journey. As soon 
as we touched the shore of the island where we were to spend the 
night, we were surrounded by a crowd of drivers, who jabbered 
away in a language entirely unknown to us. The strange- look- 
ing personages wore small caps and odd clothes, and drove odder 
vehicles. We hired one of these turn-outs to gwe us a glimpse 
of these Finnish towns. At four the next morning we were 
again off, and so we continued to travel until we disembarked at 
St. Petersburg. We reached this city in the evening. Besides 
the setting sun in the west, there was an apparent sun in the 
east. On drawing near, we found this glittering body to be the 
gold-plated dome of St. Isaac's Church. St. Petersburg is not 
an old city. Its houses are built in the modern style and many 
are similar to those of America. One afternoon we were attract- 
ed by music toward a small Greek church, and, concluding that 
services were being held, we entered. We were especially struck 
by the richness and power of the music. The clergy of the 
Greek church cultivate a deep bass voice, and few are found who 
do not sing well. 

St. Isaac's is one of the most beautiful churches in the world. 
It has many splendid columns, most of which are made of real 
malachite. The two handsomest are of lapis lazuli, which is very 
costly even in minute pieces. There are no seats in Greek 
churches. Even the Emperor stands during the whole service 
on a carpeted dais which is made for the purpose. While at St. 
Isaac's we witnessed both a marriage and a baptism. A caldron 
was brought and filled with tepid water. Into this the children 
are dipped three times, face downwards, in the name of the 
Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Infants are 
baptized when they are eight days old according to the time of 

67: MARY'S MUSE. 133 

circumcision among the Jews. A few minutes after the baptism 
the bridal party entered. "While the pair were being united, 
crowns were held over their heads. The service was simple, and 
bears a marked resemblance to that of the English Church. 

Before leaving the capital, we visited the "Winter Palace. We 
were struck hy a strange-looking building in front of it. We 
were told that sometimes the coachmen on the nights of festivals 
at the Palace, had frozen to death. So this odd-looking building, 
like a great grate, was filled with wood and coal enough for a 
huge fire, that the coachmen might warm themselves. After 
some trouble, we got leave to see the St. Petersburg diamond, the 
finest in the world. It is kept by itself in a room, whose win- 
dows are heavily barred with iron. Guards watch the door. 
The stone is as clear and sparkling as a drop of water, and is 
about the size of a black walnut. In the same place we saw 
some of the best works of Rembrandt, Reynolds, and other dis- 
tinguished artists. In one room there were eight handsome 
paintings of extraordinary size, and priceless worth. We visited 
St. Petersburg in the summer, though we were told that we should 
have waited until winter, if we wished to see the place in all its 
glory. Then people have returned from summer resorts. The 
air resounds with sleigh-bells, and there is much skating on the 
beautiful Xeva. We shivered at the thought of the intense cold, 
and were content to be there in summer. At the end of a week 
we left for Moscow. 

In this grand old city you do not see modern stvles as in St. 
Petersburg. The houses resemble checker-boards. They are 
painted in every color of the rainbow, regardless of taste. We 
drove to the hill whence Xapoleon first saw the city. The gay 
houses looked well at a distance, and the defects which close 
observation revealed were not noticeable. 

The Kremlin is a place of especial interest, and contains mag- 
nificent treasures. Whole sets of solid silver, a tea-service of 
pure gold, bridles and saddles studded with precious stones, and 
every kind of antique furniture. 

We now went to Nijni Novgorod. This is a small place, 
but famous for its fairs, to which come people from north, east, 

134 ST. .MARY'S MUSE. 

south and west. The irrns are like Eastern Khans. Guests pro- 
vide even their beds, but the meals are fairly good. Friends 
who had visited Novgorod told us not to leave the place with- 
out dining off sterlet. So one day we ordered this fish for dinner. 
We found the much-talked-of dish to be simply young sturgeon. 
We knew that we should be subjected to many inconveniences if 
we spent the night at Nijni; so we left Moscow in the even- 
ing, travelled all night, and reached N. early in the morning. 
This plan enabled us to be very comfortable. We slept during 
the night in deep reclining-chairs, and were fresh on our arrival 
for sight-seeing. That evening we took the return train to Mos- 
cow. A few more pleasant days in Moscow showed us many 
things of interest, and then our visit to Russia ended. 

We have lately heard and read much about cyclones and other 
commotions; so something about volcanoes will be interesting to 
you, and I will tell you of one of our visits to Vesuvius. We 
saw Mt. Etna, and other volcanoes, but found none so interest- 
ing as Mt. Vesuvius. Some may think that this volcano is in 
constant activity, but it is not. One might live near it for years 
and never see any sign of an eruption. Like other volcanoes, it 
has a cloud of smoke ever hovering over it. One night 
while in Rome, we were told that Vesuvius was in activity. 
We immediately set out for Naples. We had to remain 
for a day and night in this city, as the rain was pour- 
ing in torrents, and the smoke was blinding. The second 
day we ventured nearer the volcano. The road was so nar- 
row, rocky and muddy, that it was impossible to ride; so with 
our umbrellas held almost in front of us, we plodded our way 
to a hill, about two miles from the mountain. We were met by 
a crowd of bespattered, miserable-looking people, who told 
us that if we did not wish to be in a most dreadful condition, we 
had better keep as far as possible from Vesuvius. They said 
besides the smoke, the sand was flying in every direction, and it 
was impossible to see anything. We did not attempt to go 
nearer. From the hill we saw the lava as it rolled down the 
side of the mountain. This substance was in a stream about 


two miles long and about a quarter of a mile broad. The 
whole heavens wore illumined by a bright light which almost 
equalled that of day. The lava, as it flowed over fields, vine- 
yards, and pastures, left a mass of rock which would take centu- 
ries to disintegrate. The inhabitants were eagerly watching the 
course of the horrible stream, fearing that it would reach their 
city and bury their homes. We saw some land over which lava 
had been spread about fifty years before, and it was pure rock. 
The great, great, great grand-children of the present owners 
would find themselves with land worth possessing, but it is 
worthless for this century and that to come. Xext day we 
climbed the mountain. On looking into the huge opening, we 
saw large stones being cast up. Craters broke out in several 
places on the mountain during the next few weeks. We seldom 
saw one looking the same twice. We once descended into a 
small new crater. It was onlv two weeks old, and we thought 
the descent was rather risky, but the guide insisted that there 
was "Xo danger! no danger!" We had quite a time going- 
down. Below was a mass of lava still in activity, and we were 
nearly blinded by smoke. We concluded to get out as quickly as 
possible, but this was not so easy. We thought that once out, 
we would never again go into a crater. 

It took us an hour and a half of hard work to make the ascent 
of Vesuvius, and on reaching the top, we were completelv 
exhausted. Ladies found the ascent somewhat easier, as they 
were curried up in sedan chairs. Travellers now reach the sum- 
mit in eight minutes by train. They cannot possibly descend 
more rapidly than we did ; for we were at the foot of the moun- 
tain in six minutes after starting, having plunged at head-long 
speed through the ashes. If you should visit the far-famed 
volcano, you could reach the summit by the modern and more 
comfortable way. But ours, though tiresome, was romantic and 
not altogether unpleasant. 

And now, fearing that I will tire you who follow the old, 
and T think, heathenish custom of rising early, I will bid you 



Have you ever been on a Sunday-school picnic? I hear you 
say yes, and then you begin to tell me of the last you went to ; 
that it rained, the lemonade was full of sticks, there was an old 
man who would poke his green umbrella into your face, and 
finally you fell into the creek. But stop. You need not tell 
me any more of those ills which seem always to occur on these 
occasions. I am ready to own that Sunday-school Picnics are 
in general very stupid. Yet they have one virtue ! They are 
a never-ending subject for compositions! "A tale that is told 
o'er and o'er," until one would think there was nothing more to 
tell. But each picnic has some little individuality. To be sure 
it is generally very little. 

Sunday-school picnics are of recent date. Our great grand- 
parents never heard of them, or if they did it was as treats for 
the poor children. Now they are a mania. Some of the schools 
in New York take a jaunt into the country nearly every fort- 
night. It is amusing to see how these fill up in May and June. 
Some children go to no less than three, and so come in for a 
good share of merry-makings. But do not condemn Sunday- 
school picnics until you have been to one in Fayetteville. There 
these festivals are looked forward to with pleasure by both old 
and young. Each school vies with the others to make its picnic 
the most enjoyable. 

There are many lovely spots about Fayetteville in which to 
picnic. There is "Cross Creek," celebrated as having been the 
home of the beautiful Flora McDonald. Two sparkling little 
rivers cross each other on their way to join the Cape Fear, and 
over them bend magnificent oaks. In spring-time there are 
myriads of sweet wild flowers. Cross Creek is especially suited 
to those who are romantically inclined. On the eastern outskirts 
of the town is a "magical" spring. It is said that whoever 
drinks of its waters never rests satisfied away from Fayetteville. 
There is a spring of this kind in Tarboro. Query : Where 

ST. MA R Y'S M USE. 1 37 

shall the poor mortal stay who has drunk from both springs ? 
But best of all picnics are those down the Cape Fear river. 
This is not one of those murky, silent streams, but bright, 
sparkling and turbulent. I am going to try to convince you 
that Sunday-school picnics may be made pleasant, by telling you 
of one I went to down the Cape Fear. 

" It was in the gentle spring-time, the balmy month of May." 
All the other schools had had their picnics, and now " last, but 
not least," was to be "St. John's." There were many predic- 
tions that it would be certain to rain, for does it not always rain 
for picnics'? But the sun never looked more smiling. Our 
party was delayed some time by the non-appearance of our car- 
* riage. At last it came, and we rattled down " Hay Mountain." 
We passed a party jolting merrily along in a large spring 
wagon to the inspiring strains of "Carolina! Carolina!" We 
sent back an answering echo of " Annie Laurie." Did you ever 
go to a picnic where they didn't sing " Annie Laurie?" We 
found the " picnickers" seemingly enjoying themselves waiting 
for the boat, which had not yet arrived from Wilmington. The 
delay did not affect our spirits, for " we were on pleasure bent," 
and pleasure we would have. A number of lads and lasses from 
"over the river" had come, invited, I suppose, by town cousins. 
Some of their costumes were extraordinary in the extreme ! I 
remember one dress of bright "pumpkin" yellow, trimmed 
with lovely little green bows. The hat was white straw, 
adorned with astonishing purple roses. You must not take this 
as a sample of Fayetteville style. There was one most bewitch- 
ing costume of white. Alas! There came a sudden gust of 
wind, and the lovely plumed hat floated off to Wilmington. 
Moral : Never wear anything to a picnic you would prefer 
neither to lose nor ruin. 

While we were waiting for the boat, some of us walked 
over Hamilton bridge. We had no sooner reached the other 
side than we heard the whistle, and the "Wave" came 
puffing up stream. We watched the jolly, lazy-looking 
negroes roll off the barrels of turpentine, and then get 

138. ST. MARY'S MUSE. 

on board. There was a general scrambling for seats. I was 
fortunate enough to get one. Those who were not had to do 
without. The Cape Fear looked as smiling and happy as we. 
The oaks, sweet-gums and maples along the banks were covered 
with the beautiful grey moss peculiar to the Southern States, 
trumpet roses and yellow jessamine, then in full bloom, clambered 
over everything in glorious profusion, while sweet meadow- 
lilies bent their graceful heads to admire themselves in the 
water. Here and there a sleepy-eyed turtle lay basking in the 
sunlight. They did not even raise their heads at the steamer's 
approach, but treated us with silent contempt. At some points 
the trees parted and we caught glimpses of green fields. Here 
and there noisy brooks emptied their waters into the river. But 
while I have been chattering, the "wave" has taken the laugh- 
ing crowd down stream to the "Point." We had a steep hill to 
climb, but when that had been ascended, no prettier place for a 
picnic could have been found, a grove of magnificent oaks with 
a spring close by. Botany lovers must have been happy that 
day, for the earth seemed fairly covered with a carpet of flowers. 
"Stars of Bethlehem" shone out from every nook and cranny, 
pure white field-lilies, blue violets, yellow primroses, and wild 
snow-drops were innumerable. The large straw hafs which most 
of the girls wore were soon gayly decked. 

We welcomed the summons to dinner with joy. One alwavs 
gets ravenously hungry at picnics; and that dinner! It was 
simply the perfection of picnic culinary art. 

Fayettevillians carry lunches not in baskets, but trunks, and 
large trunks too! Words fail at thought of the dainties of that 
day. And the lemonade did not have sticks in it, After din- 
ner, the "picnickers" dispersed, most of the young folks engaged 
in merry games. Some of the gentlemen went fishing, while 
others went rowing in a fisherman's boat. One party hunted 
strawberries and discovered that treasure, a sweet-gum tree cut 
just long enough. The old folks wanted some too, but they 
were a little ashamed. There was the proper number of swings 
and croquet-sets, and down by the river the small children 

ST. MARY'S M USE. 139 

were iu paddling. I suppose it is this paddling which makes 
cough syrup an invariable consequent upon picnics. So the 
day passed on and still it did hot rain. The boys courted, and 
I dare say, the girls flirted. The elders may have even gossiped. 
The babies cried! Why a v i 1 1 people take babies to picnics? 
The man in the moon showed his face before we got back, and 
made the beautiful Cape Fear still more beautiful with the light 
of his countenance. 

Perhaps you are saving : " This was just like all Sunday-school 
picnics, hateful things!" But I assure you it was most enjoy- 
able; and, if you ever happen to be in Fayetteville in May, gc 
to the picnics. 


Richard I. of England and Louis XI. of France present one 
of the most marked contrasts to be found in history — in per- 
sonal appearance, character, and policy. Richard, both because 
he lived in an earlier century, and by his nobler fame merits 
description first, which, however, it is hardly necessary to give. 
Every one is familiar with the splendid figure, frauk, open 
countenance, blue eyes, and yellow hair of this mediaeval hero. 
With immense strength, and prowess which has been handed 
down bv tradition in the language of nearlv every nation and 
which has won him the title of Liou-Hearted, he is a typical 

His character is as prepossessing as his appearance; for though 
he was head-strong, impetuous, and often violent his unbounded 
generosity, chivalry, and valor have gained the love of all. The 
most perfect knight of his time, he was devoted to warfare and 
passages, of arms. To such a temperament the Crusades, uniting, 
as they did, high religious zeal with the opportunity for earning 
fame as a warrior, offered a strong temptation. The calling of a 
king was not considered as responsible then as now. Richard 


easily suffered inclination to overcome duty and spent most of 
his time in the East, leaving his kingdom to the mercy of his 
brother John. Throughout the entire reign we see the interests 
of the realm made subservient to the martial pursuits of the king. 
The subjects were taxed, oppressed, and even persecuted to raise 
the funds necessary to his foreign wars. Henry II. had left the 
country in a prosperous condition and had gained for her honor 
abroad and comparative peace at home. England needed one 
other such king, uniting a wise head with a brave heart, to place 
her first among the nations of Europe. Unfortunately Richard 
cared for her welfare onlv as it affected him, and not with that 
unselfish devotion which should characterize the relationship of 
a sovereign and his people. As a king, therefore, there is much 
fault to be found with him. But it is seldom that we consider 
him as monarch. 

There is a wonderful, indefinable spell cast around many his- 
torical characters, hiding their blemishes and heightening their 
beauties. We call it Romance. By it the saintliness of Louis IX. 
of France grows brighter and the chivalry of the Black Prince 
almost fabulous: we forget the lack of prudence and judgment 
in the one; the impatience under suffering, the w T eak yielding to 
passion, of the other. Romance has shed its golden light around 
Coeur de Lion and prevents us from viewing him with a calm 
and philosophic eye. All characters are not thus illuminated. 
Romantic circumstances are necessary. And, when to these cir- 
cumstances there is added what we may call intrinsic romance, 
the transformation is wonderful. We know that we do not see 
the character as it really is; yet too witching is the spell to wish 
it otherwise. Richard's character and career were essentially 
romantic. His daring, thrilling adventures and his generosity, 
his kingly magnificence at one time, and his plain soldier-life at 
another have exerted such fascination upon us that we wash to 
forget his faults. Even the plain facts of history are changed 
by the magical influence. We never think of him as a cruel 
tyrant, the oppressor of the persecuted Jews ; but as the gener- 
ous forgiver of a treacherous brother. We think of him in his 


romantic connections with the bold outlaw, Robin Hood, and 
again as he leads his followers into the very midst of the affray, 
his mighty battle axe uplifted and his war-cry, "St. George for 
merrie England," striking deadly terror into every heart. Fi- 
nally we think of him on his death-bed, when stricken down by 
the murderous arrow he vet freely forgave his assassin. 

Entirely different is the picture presented by Louis. He was 
cowardly, cunning, and underhanded where Richard was brave, 
frank, and open; avaricious and cruel where the latter was gen- 
erous and merciful. These qualities united with grovelling super- 
stition and frightful impiety form the basest character that ever 
occupied the throne of France. Yet he was an able monarch ; 
and if we could accept the Jesuits' maxim, "The end justifies the 
means," we should approve his policy, for it restored order and 
peace to a disturbed domain. Charles VII. had done much 
towards reviving France after the Hundred Years War. Louis 
continued his father's good work, but from a different motive. All 
his efforts to restore peace were for his own power. To this end 
he shamefully oppressed his nobility and performed dreadful acts 
of cruelty. France was secure but not a subject was safe. Louis' 
nature was singularly devoid of romance. His hard, practical 
habits, cruelty and deceit kept at bay every softening influence. 
His circumstances also were more prosaic. 

, When we come to look at the two kings in Fiction, we find the 
contrast even sharper. In the Talisman, Richard stands out in 
glowing colors, as the gallant warrior, the generous foe, the 
princely king; while in Quentin Durward, Louis is the cowardly 
tyrant, the treacherous enemy, the miserly prince. Take for 
instance the meeting between Richard and Saladin, and that of 
Louis and the Duke of Burgundy. Both kings had placed 
themselves in the hands of a powerful and, in Louis' case, an 
exasperated enemy. But with what different motives, and 
under what different circumstances! The meeting between 
Richard and Saladin has never been rivalled for its magnificence 
and display of chivalry; while that of Louis, although impor- 
tant events hung upon it, was merely a commonplace, every- 


day affair. Richard, honorable and generous himself, sus- 
pected no false play, and, therefore, felt entirely safe; but Louis, 
knowing his own treacherous nature, kept his appointment 
with fear and trembling, although it was the result of his own 
deep-laid plots. Cceur de Lion's passionate outburst when the 
Duke of Austria planted his standard above that of England, 
although impolitic and, as it afterwards turned out, dangerous 
for himself, excites our sympathy much more than Louis' calm 
and wary reply when insulted by the Duke of Burgundy. We 
see Richard travelling incognito, as he was most fond of doing, 
making his own way by feats of arms, protecting the oppressed, 
and lending his strong arm to aid the weaker party. We see 
him the central figure of the celebrated tournament at Ashby de 
la Zouche, when disguised in sable armor, he rushed into the 
conflict and by his single arm turned the tide of battle. We see 
him travelling alone in the forest, unattended except by his gal- 
lant war-horse, secure in the love of his people. Where must 
we search for Louis? In a dreary castle at Plessis-les Tours. 
Within an almost impregnable fortress, surrounded by moat 
within moat and wall within wall, by hidden snares and ambus- 
cades extending for hundreds of feet around the castle, is the King 
of France ; a small, dark, meanly clad person, associating with 
his inferiors, never daring to stir abroad without his body-guard 
of Scottish archers. Here he committed deeds too dreadful to be^ 
brought into the light of day. 

In considering these two characters, we plainly see the effect of 
want of balance. It is not so conspicuous in Richard as in Louis, 
and does not render him so despicable. But consider what a 
noble man he would have been if his courage had been tempered 
by prudence, his enthusiasm by judgment ! And what a monarch 
Louis would have made, if his wise head had been joined with a 
warm heart ! 



This peak, four thousand five hundred feet above sea-level, is 
the highest peak of the Catskills, and shelters many smaller 
mountains which cling around its base. From it can be obtained 
some of tire most exquisite views. It overlooks the Hudson, 
and the grand Palisades look like tiny walls hemming in the 
river. The city of Albany, rising proudly on its hill, is so small 
that it hardly seems possible for it to be a city. The court-house 
can be distinctly seen. As yon look to the north, a beautiful 
view meets your eye; farms laid out like flower-gardens, and 
fields of buckwheat and grain quivering in the breeze. The con- 
trast between them and the meadows ef grass is very beautiful. 
So-called high mountains look like so many mole-hills, as they 
shield the toy farm-houses nestled at their feet. The tiny streams 
are almost invisible but yon seem to hear the sound of dashing 
torrents. Cattle graze on the sunny hill-sides and, as you 
listen to the tinkle of the bells on those near by, you imagine 
you hear theirs. Winding in and out among; the hills is the old 
mountain road. It seems to you a mere foot-path. 

On a stormy day you are entirely enveloped in clouds; you 
cannot see ten feet beyond you. If you stand on the edge of 
the peak when the clouds begin to break, you feel that you are 
standing on the brink of a yawning chasm. Below you the 
clouds look like an angry sea, whose waves dash furiously upon 
one another. Suddenly the storm returns. Rain pours down 
from the heavens; and, as the thunder roars arid the lightning 
flashes, one can imagine a ship struggling in the cruel 
blasts. But now the storm has spent its fury, the rain ceases, 
and the sea smoothes its waters. Instead of ocean billows and 
a wrecked ship, nature smiles in all her glory. The setting sun 
clothes the hill-tops with a golden robe, and every twig sparkles. 
A glorious rain-bow overspreads the heavens ; and, as we gaze 
at it, we are reminded of the promise of old. 



We were to have the wonderful sights of Europe without 
going there. We were to have the pleasure and profit of travel- 
ling without the fatigue or danger. In a word, we were going 
down to an exhibition of stercoptic views. 

We were soon in our places and the voyage began. What a 
convenient way of travelling was ours ! How pleasant ! We 
were troubled by no disagreeable fellow-passengers. Such a 
thing as sea-sickness was not known among us. There were no 
rough waves to endanger health, no storms to threaten life. We 
sat on deck watching the water as it sparkled in the sunlight and 
our minds were filled witn anticipations of pleasure. Before we 
had time to tire of the ship (i. e., in about three minutes) we ar- 
rived at Liverpool. Here we found everything covered with 
snow.* We grew more and more delighted with our way of trav- 
elling. As soon as we thought we would like to leave for Italy, 
behold ! we were there. The age of miracles is not past ! One 
moment in a land of snow and the next in a land of flowers. It 
was as if we had been presented with a magic ring or a carpet 
like the Emir's. 

Before we had recovered from other surprises, we were in 
Genoa. The high houses, the steep, narrow streets looked strange 
to eyes accustomed to the towns of the New World. We saw 
first the beautiful harbor. It was crowded with shipping, which 
spoke well for the commercial prosperity of the city. But not 
one of these vessels could compare in swiftness or beauty with 
the ship in which we had crossed the Atlantic. We went next 
to see a fine statue of Columbus. It stands on a circular pedes- 
tal on which are carved four galley-prows. America is repre- 
sented as kneeling at the feet of her discoverer. Though Genoa 
would not aid Columbus in his search for unknown lands, she 
has paid this tribute to his memory, thus showing the gratitude 
of the mother to be greater than that of the child, for America 
has no such statue. 'The Carlo Felice, the principal theatre of 


Genoa, is said to be the finest in Italy, lmt we thought it best to 
postpone a sight of it till our next visit. For the same reason 
we did not visit the Campo Santo and the Santa Maria di Careg- 
nana. Had we gene to the latter we should not have been 
allowed to see the richest part, the Chapel of St. John the Bap- 
tist. Xo woman is allowed to enter this because the Prophet's 
death was brought about by a woman. We left the cathedral 
with its beautiful twisted pillars, the Annunziata with its col- 
umns of precious marble, and (hard fate for girls) the shops full 
of filigree, for our next visit. 

Now our ring, or carpet, if you prefer, came into use again, and 
we were in Pisa. We were set down in front of the famous 
leaning tower. No one knows why the tower was built thus. 
One supposition is that while it was building, an earthquake, up- 
heaving the ground underneath part of it, caused it to lean, and 
the architect finished it in this position. From the top of this 
tower Galileo tried his famous experiment with the iron balls. 
The Tower and the Baptistery, Cathedral, and Campo Santo are 
four of the most wonderful structures in the world. They are 
built of white marble and in the same style of architecture. 

We turned our ring again and found ourselves in Rome, that 
city reverenced by so many as the home of the Pope and the 
" metropolis of the kingdom of God." We passed under the 
Porta del Popolo, ^which was new when St. Paul preached in 
Rome, and came first to the Vatican, where is the most beautiful 
statuary in the world; the "Centaur," "Apollo Belvedere," 
Daphne, the "Laocoon," and many others. The statue of the 
Apollo Belvedere is considered among the finest of ancient works 
of art. The sculptor is unknown. The statue represents Apollo 
just at the moment of his victory over the Python. He is lean- 
ing a little forward, his bow held out in his left hand, while his 
right having just let fly the arrow is drawn a little back. Next 
to the perfect proportions the great beauties of the statue are the 
graceful position, the earnest expression in the eyes, and the won- 
derful smile. It takes the name "Belvedere "from being placed 
in the Belvedere of the Vatican. The Laocoon represents an old 

146 ST. .MARY'S MUSE. 

Trojan hero and his two sons being crushed to death by two ser- 
pents. The expression of triumphant delight on the face of 
the Apollo contrasts strongly with the look of helpless agony 
on the faces of Laocoon and his sons. From the Vatican 
we went to St. Peter's. The architecture of the Cathedral is a 
mixture of the Grecian and Byzantine styles. The vastness of 
the building is wonderful. The pen in the hand of St. Mark, 
one (tf the figures in the dome, is eleven feet long; but it is so high 
that it appears to be the size of an ordinary pen. This sentence 
is all around the dome, in Latin :■ — " Thou art Peter, and on this 
rock will I build my Church." In front of St. Peter's stands 
the great needle, an Egyptian obelisk. We could not pass by 
the Coliseum. By day it looks old and ruinous, but in the moon- 
light the marks of time are invisible and the structure seems as 
strong as when first built. In the centre stands a cross, and every 
evening at vespers the people meet at the spot made sacred by the 
blood of martyrs, to worship the God for whom the martyrs died. 
Outside the city stands a beautiful church called "St. Paul's with- 
out the Walls." It is built on a marsh and the situation is so 
unhealthy that it cannot be used at all during the summer months. 
The long galleries lined with statues must be closed and the pol- 
ished marble floors must be untouched by footfalls for three 
months in every year. We could not leave Rome without seeing 
the famous fountain of Travi. It is said that whoever drinks of 
the fountain, at the same time throwing in a piece of silver, will 
be sure to return to Rome. 

In our flight from Rome to Pompeii we passed over Naples 
and paused to take a bird's-eye view of the city. The blue bay 
lying beneath was covered with shipping, and the city, in the 
shape of two great curves, was built down to the water's edge. 
Lovely villas lined the shore for some distance beyond the limits 
of the town. A railroad, taking much from the romance of the 
scene, climbed Vesuvius. We were particularly anxious to de- 
scend and go shopping, for we had heard some ridiculous stories 
of the efforts of the tradesmen to cheat foreigners. It is said that 
in one street it takes a whole week to buy anything. On Mon- 

ST. MARY'S M USE. 147 

day you walk down the street looking at the tortoise shell, coral, 
and other pretty things in the shops. Having found the real 
value of any article you want, you go in and ask the price. You 
find that it is about five times as much as the article is worth. 
"Too much" you say and walk out of the store. On Tuesday 
vou walk down again and ask the price of the same thing. The 
shopman reduces a little. "Too much " you say again. So it 
goes on till .Saturday. On this day vou walk down the street 
now grown familiar and, as you stop in front of 'your shop,' the 
shopman runs out, bringing the object of your daily walks in his 
hand and offers it to you for the price which you offered him on 

And now we were at Pompeii. We had crossed the Atlantic, 
visited Genoa, Pisa, and Rome, in about an hour; and, so far, 
we were not at all tired. I enjoyed Pompeii more than I had 
any other city. How curious the streets looked, with their 
raised sidewalks ! We walked over the uneven stones in silence 
and paused before the house of Diomed. Looking around, I 
thought of the lovers, Glancus and lone, of the proud Lady 
Julia, and the poor little blind slave. We then walked through 
the cemetery. It was, indeed, a street of the dead, for the 
ancients had a curious fashion of building their tombs on the 
sides of a street. We did not visit many of the houses, as we 
had little time left and were anxious to go up to the top of 
Vesuvius. We went, however, to the ruined circus. This was, 
perhaps, filled with men, women, and children, watching with 
eagerness for the lions which were to tear in pieces Arbaces, the 
Egyptian, or Glancus, the Athenian, when the terrible eruption 
occurred which laid the two cities in ruins. As we were think- 
ing of this the sky reddened in the light of the burning lava. 
An eruption was even now taking place! A more magnificent 
sight cannot be imagined. The flames rose from the crater, 
while streams of lava poured down the sides of the mountain, 
and the whole sky was lighted up by the glow. After the erup- 
tion was over, we climbed up to the crater over beds of hard- 
ened lava. 



Having now seen some of the most noted things of the Old 
World, we were obliged to return home. We chose to come on 
the carpet instead of by the ship, and in a moment found our- 
selves in Raleigh. The sight of so many wonderful and beau- 
tiful things in so short a time made our visit like a dream. 
May we dream that dream again. 


Frederick Wilson, having just finished his junior year at col- 
lege, went to spend the vacation at his father's new country-seat. 
He had long ago chosen medicine as his profession ; but " a knowl- 
edge of gardening need not conflict," he thought, "and it cer- 
tainly will be a pleasant recreation." Having lived in the city 
all his life, Fred knew of horticulture and agriculture only from 
books, but in these he thought himself not moderately versed. 
Had he not studied Botany and analyzed every flower he could 
lay hands upon ? Had he not a smattering of Geology, enough 
to describe the Carboniferous Era ? Did he not know the chemi- 
cal constituents of many fruits and vegetables ? Had not Physi- 
cal Geography taught him the distribution of plants by the laws 
of climate ? Moreover did he not have at his tongue's end the 
mythological history of nearly every tree and flower? And 
lastly, could he not carry on a conversation with floral symbols? 
So Master Fred considered himself fully competent to assist in 
the gardening, even modestly to assume the entire control. He 
was eager to read the book of experience ; for, as he sagely re- 
marked, "he could not learn younger." 

Fred liked hunting and fishing, not only for the exhilarating 
exercise they furnished, but also for the admirable opportunities 
they afforded for experiments in Comparative Anatomy and Ich- 
thyology. He liked society and parties that he might air his 
learning before the girls. "Still, these are mere amusements," 


said he, "and a young man who intends to make his living can- 
not afford to spend even his holiday in absolute abandonment to 
pleasure." So he set himself to work to be useful. If an 
orchard was to be planted, "Elevated slopes are best," said wis- 
dom, " because there the winds have a clear sweep and so there 
is less frost." Then pointing to the neighboring farms, Fred 
Mould show how much better the hill-side crops were than those 
in the lowlands, despite the richer soil of the latter. Fred was, 
of course, a stranger to the manual labor of ploughing, sowing, 
harvesting, etc.; these were yet to be learned. But he knew 
some things which the plain country farmers had not heard of. 
He surprised a friend one day by sending him peaches with his 
name grown on them in beautiful red letters, the fruit otherwise 
being white. 

Fred's opinions were at everybody's service. He even advised 
old Mr. Martin, his father's chum, to drain his marsh by plant- 
ing it with pine-trees. "And it might be well," suggested Fred, 
"to import a 'fever-tree' from Spain to check the miasma of the 
swamp." "I'll none of your 'fever-trees,'" replied old Martin, 
hotly, "to kill all my cattle and sheep pasturing in the meadow." 
"My dear sir," rejoined Fred, "the fever-tree promotes health. 
You are thinking of the Upas tree. But even that in itself is 
not poisonous. It is the carbonic acid gas which rises from the 
ground." "Xo matter, no matter," said Martin, petulantly, 
" I'll have no fever-tree, not one." 

A parterre was to be laid out. Fred drew the design and 
chose the flowers. His little sister Amy wanted all lilies, tulips, 
and hyacinths. " They are so much prettier than roses and vio- 
lets and pinks and poppies," she said. " You wantonly bulbous 
roots," he answered, " they bear flowers which are ostentatious 
but often devoid of perfume. You remember the fable of the 
tulip and the violet, do you not? I suppose you would have 
preferred the tulip. The 'nodding violet' was the favorite of 
Shakespeare and many other poets. It was the national device 
of the Athenians and was called by them 'Ion' from the nymph 
Io, who, when she was changed into a heifer, was given this 


flower to eat. The violet is* the emblem of the Bouapartes, first 
adopted during the great Napoleon's exile by those who wished 
to restore his power." Thus fairly started, Fred delivered an 
exhaustive discourse on innumerable flowers, in none of which 
did Amy take the slightest interest. There was the magic ver- 
vain, sent by the ancients to make peace with an enemy. There 
were heliotrope and sunflower both named from the "mad Clytie." 
There were forget-me-nots 


"That grow for happy lovers," 

with their beautiful Danubian legend. There was Jack the Giant 
Killer's wonderful bean-stalk; there was the scarlet pimpernel, 
or "poor man's weather-glass"; there were Daphne and Narcis- 
sus; the daffodil, or Dis's lily; the cypress and heartsease; Eng- 
land's rose, Scotland's thistle, Ireland's shamrock, France's fleur- 
de-lis, Germany's kaiserblume. 

Not even household affairs escaped Fred's anxious care. If 
five-year-old Herbert refused to take his pill, Fred would exhort 
him in words like these: "Come, Herbert, quick! Swallow 
the pill. It will make you feel ten times better; and if you are 
a prudent boy, you'll never be ill again. You ought to be thank- 
ful for not being made to take the quinine in solution, like the 
poor feverish Indian, thirsty for some sweet, fresh water and 
obliged to drink from a stream embittered by a Peruvian bark- 
tree, which has fallen over the bank. Ah ! if Donna-Cinchona 
were here, you could not resist the fascination of her eyes who 
succeeded in introducing into Spain the remedy which bears her 
name." The small brother remained obdurate to Fred's elabo- 
rate speech ; but Donna Madre's gentler and simpler persuasions 
produced the desired effect. " So would have Donna Cinchona's," 
thought Fred. In talking of the "Alps, Fred did not fail to nar- 
rate at length how the Illyrian king was restored to health by the 
herb called, from his use of it, "gentian." When sister Mabel's 
canary was sick, Fred said it was because she had no flowers in 
her room ; so he made her a window-garden of geraniums and 


and callus, and planted a star jessamine to run up on the wall 
outside. Mabel complained that the perfume was sometimes too 
strong at night. " But," said Fred, "its powerful fragrance is a 
great protection to the flower. The tiny vesicles of vapor act as 
shields to prevent the escape of heat on a cold night." 

Frederick Wilson aspired to the rank of poet as well as botan- 
ist and, naturally, flowers were the chief source of his inspiration ; 
and, naturally also, since he liked all flowers so well he did not 
love any one especially, although he sometimes said that of cul- 
tivated flowers the moss rose was his favorite, and of wild flow- 
ers, the yellow jessamine. His poem on the latter, however, was 
scarcely more than a rhymed catalogue of spring blossoms with 
the barest preference for the jessamine. AVe transcribe the verses : 


The pride of the South is her woodland so gay, 
And the pride of the woodland 's the jessamine spray ; 
For who does not love the delicious perfume 
Of the jessamine's yellow luxuriant bloom ? 

Though the rough winds of March blow boisterous and bleak, 
Yet the violets laugh in the cane by the creek ; 
They are playing bo-peep with the innocents blue, 
They are merrily greeting the sheep-sorrel too. 

Almost gone are these flowers when April rains come, 
But the clover 's alive with the busy bees' hum ; 
At a distance the redbud in brilliant attire 
Is inviting the bees to come seek honey higher ; 

And the wild phlox, so-called, and the snapdragon bold, 
And some flowers of lilac and scarlet and gold — 
But whose names I believe only botanists know — 
With the bright-colored peas in profusion do grow. 

Now some jessamine buds I can certainly see 
On the branches that trail from yon hickory tree, 
Which will, if I mistake not, be soon opened wide 
And will rival in beauty all flowers beside. 

Aromatic sweet odors pervading the air 

Either come from the stately magnolia there 

Or the may-apple blossoms, the pink and the white, 

Or the delicate wild rose that blooms on the right. 


The zephyr lags languid mid leaf-laden trees, 
The wistaria's scent now is borne on the breeze — 
Oh ! but what is it peeps from that glossy green bower ? 
If my eyes deceive not, 'tis the jessamine flower ! 

In festoons see it cling, as if bound by a vow, 
To the slender young pine-tree's dark evergreen bough, 
Or the aged live oaks with its mossy grey beard — 
This wondrously lovely, that wondrously weird. 

Though the queen of the garden 's the fragrant moss rose, 

And as queen of the swamp the magnolia grows, 

I am sure there is none of us can but opine 

That the queen of the wood is the jessamine vine." 

Fred intends some day to publish an anthology. 

Poet as he called himself, Fred could descend to the most 
prosaic commonplaces. Estelle Martin had a most magnificent 
night-blooming cereus, of which she was justly proud, and Fred 
chose to vex her by saying that it was a bat of the vegetable 
kingdom Another time he put the conundrum, "Why is attar 
of roses like kerosene oil?" Answer: "Because exactly the 
same — in chemical elements." Be it known to the reader, that 
these comparisons were not original with Fred; he saw them in 
books. Now, to tell you a secret, Fred said many nice things to 
Estelle, sub-rosa, which neither would like me to repeat. Her 
birthday was in the leap year month ; Fred said the snow-drop 
should be her flower, and the "Fair Maid of February" her 
name. Both of them were very fond of the story of the olean- 
der, they only knew why. If Estelle presumed to allow atten- 
tions from other young gentlemen, Frederick soon found appel- 
lations with which to tease her; such as Venus Fly-Trap or 
" Nolimetangere." Estelle's brother Frank prided himself on a 
knowledge of philology. Fred, quick to perceive in another 
his own prominent characteristic, conceit, challenged the young 
linguist to guess the derivation of the word "samphire"; and the 
latter was astonished and abashed at his own ignorance, and at 
the information that samphire is a corrupted contraction of 
"I'herbede S.Pierre." 


Fred thought it a crying shame that the great botanists were 
so little known. He therefore devoted a special spot in his gar- 
den to their memory, and there planted — rare combination! — 
a magnolia draped with Tillandsia (grey moss, old Martin called 
it) and about the tree placed camelias, fuchsias, dahlias, and peo- 
nies, all named from their discoverers. "Why, my son, did you 
forget Linnaeus? Simply because you did not know of any 
flower named from him? You are not so wise after all, you 
see." Fred's father made the above queries, to which the son 
replied: "The IAnncea borealis is Linnaeus's namesake, but we 
call it the 'twin-flower.' Linnaeus found it in Lapland, but it 
grows in this country as far south as Maryland; and I would be 
much obliged to you if you would get some for me. It has a 
greater right to a place in my garden than the grey moss (which 
only botanists call Tillandsia), because Linnaeus was undoubtedly 
greater than Tillauds. So many flowers have been named from 
botanists in the scientific nomenclature that, if you wish me to 
have them all, then give me the world for my garden." 


After having for two years occupied the post of Editors of 
the Muse, in which time the little paper has become dear to us, 
we must at length resign our post and privilege to our younger 
sisters, who will step into our places with the closing year. 

Although shut up in a little world of our own, we have en- 
deavored to keep pace with the larger world without. Borne by 
our editorial Pegasus, we have visited all the continents. In 
Africa, we have followed Mr. Stanley's course up the Congo, and 
learned something of the manners and customs of the natives; 
and we have watched with interest the development of the war 
in Egypt and the stirring movements of the False Prophet. We 
have had a peep at the conservative Asiatic empire, China, and 
discussed her wary policy and precipitous action. We have con- 
sidered all sides of European affairs. The complicated situation 
of French politics has been carefully noted and the policy of its 
leaders weighed. The excitements in Russia also have roused 
the enthusiasm of our co-editor, who, by her well-written arti- 
cles, has infused into us all somewhat of her spirit. The great 
American Centennials of the past nine years, beginning with 
that of the Mecklenburg Resolutions, and concluding with that 
of Evacuation Day, have been thoroughly reviewed in an inter- 
esting manner, the writer recapitulating their glories and recall- 
ing the great events which they commemorated. Nor has our 
Clio shrunk from prophesying the course of events for the com- 
ing year, and her predictions have .so far been justified. With 
equal and characteristic ability, our learned sister has kept up 
with the physical phenomena, accounts of which fill us with 
horror and which we have mercifully been spared. 

Since the beginning of our editorship, Dr. Benson has been 
raised to the Primacy of the Church of England, which event 
gave rise to an exhaustive review of that office and its value. 
We may mention with pardonable pride the high praise this arti- 

ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 155 

cle elicited from the Bishop, viz. — that it was the most compre- 
hensive and concise discussion of the subject that he had seen in 
any American paper. The great Centennial of the Church in 
America and the meeting of the Church Congress at Richmond, 
had also prominent places among notices, and the Convention 
which appointed the first Bishop of Eastern North Carolina, 
though it did not demand such important mention, was to us of 
equal interest. 

A number of lectures have broken in pleasantly upon our reg- 
ular routine. We have travelled with the Bishop from Yevey 
to Rome, from St. Petersburg to Vesuvius. With him, we have 
crossed the mighty fiords of Scandinavia, and wandered through 
the streets of San Francisco and the charming Xapa Valley. 
Mr. Marshall, with his stereopticon, showed us the wonders of 
the Yosemite region and the Bio- Trees of California. Dr. Mayo 
gave us a charming lecture on the Education of Girls, while with 
Mr. Curr we spent a night in the House of Commons. Sophia 
Thurmond, of '80, has proved herself our most efficient reporter, 
and upon her we trust that the mantle of our Clio, with a dou- 
ble portion of her spirit, will fall, to the future advantage of the 

In turning the pages of old numbers and reading articles from 
the pens of girls from different States, we must be struck by the 
characteristic difference in the bent of their minds. South Caro- 
lina's daughters have shown themselves ^vell versed in the indus- 
tries of their State. Fanny Lucas and Leah McClenaghan have 
revealed to us the mysteries of rice and cotton-growing, of fruit 
culture and wine-making, of cattle and bee-raising. Apparently 
we of Xorth Carolina are all pleasure-seekers, who love to 
describe the beautiful scenery of our State. Asheville, Black 
Mountain, the Roan, the White Sulphur Springs and Nag's 
Head, have all been described by girls who have enjoyed the 
gaieties of a summer season at these various places. But our 
Texas Muse has described Galveston, and another Texan artist 
has sketched the prairies of her native State. 


Such essays as "Kenil worth," "Leicester and Varney," "Hin- 
doo and Scandinavian Mythology," "Hebrew Poetry," show that 
the department of criticism and comparison has not been neg- 
lected. Those on "Flowers" and " Among the Pines" are writ- 
ten with delicate grace. 

The little folks have contributed largely to the department of 
Fiction. They have given us the history and adventures of all 
sorts of things, animate and inanimate, with a lively fancy that 
promises much for the future. More able artists have given us 
translations from the French and German. The prettiest of these 
was "Nanine," the original of which had been crowned by the 
French Academy. 

Living in so small a city, our musical advantages are natu- 
rally few. However, the occasional glimpses that we have had 
of music in its highest form have served to inspire in us a love 
and longing for that glorious art. We were particularly happy 
last year in being able to see and hear through the eyes and ears 
of our Foreign Correspondent, the grand Wagner Operas, the 
perfect orchestral music, the great singers and players of the 
time. Back in America, our ex-correspondent keeps up with the 
Old World through German musical papers, from which, under 
her direction, a translation has been made for the present 

Our artists, Annie and Alice, have furnished interesting arti- 
cles in their department, not only acquainting us with all the 
new styles of drawing and painting, but bringing to our notice 
the works of contemporary artists and the treasures of the past. 

And now, having done our best to interest our kind readers, 
we must, before closing our literary career, thank them for their 
kind appreciation of our efforts. Without the encouragement of 
their generous praise and eager welcome of our magazine, we 
must long ago have fallen into the Slough of Despond. 

Everything seems to be conspiring to render these last weeks 
of our school-life the very pleasantest of all, and to make us 
anticipate with sorrow our Commencement Day. The flowers 
promise to don their most beautiful and gorgeous robes to bid 


us good-bye ; the magnolia, twenty-six years old, which has not 
bloomed in all these years, is full of buds — just in our honor, 
our Lady-Principal says. Never was earth or sky more beautiful. 
For even* graduating class, there must be a feeling of regret 
connected with that day when one volume of the book of life 
is ended and another is begun; but for us it seems peculiarly 
deep. For surely there was never a class whose members were 
all so dear to one another, had lived so long together, and in 
such intimate friendship. Moreover, nothing more could have 
been done to make our lives the very brightest and happiest, 
than has been done by our kind teachers, whom we have learned 
to esteem and dearly love. Truly, there are none of her daugh- 
ters who will look back to St. Mary's with such loving hearts, 
and who will so delight to call her Alma Mater, as the Class 
of '84. 

How does Remenyi look? No words can better describe 
him than those which he said had already been applied to him. 
" He is about fifty, bald-headed, and by no means handsome, but 
when he puts his violin under his chin, something comes into his 
eyes which is a foreboding of his genius and — in short, I think 
I could love him." 

What is the Remenyi drink? Something sweet and 
pleasant to the taste, cooling and refreshing — a glass of pure, 
unadulterated orange-juice. 

We have had the pleasure of sending, by request, a descrip- 
tive pamphlet of the Jerusalem Orphan Asylum to Miss Carrie 
C. Strong, a former pupil of St. Mary's. 

The Easter Offertory was an unusually large one. 

Prompt acknowledgments have been made of the receipt of our 

various mite-chest savings; one from Scotland Xeck, another 

from the Oxford Orphan Asylum. Mr. Jones, of Try on City, 

writes : 

The check for ST. 50 from the voting ladies of St. Mary's was received by 
me last night. The amount was sent by me this morning to Mr. Pott, for 
Prayer-books and Calvary Catechisms, which we very much need. 


To yon and the young ladies, our kindest acknowledgments are due for 
your thoughtful and practical recollection of our needs. The remittance will 
put a book in the hands of many a little child who will greatly prize it — and 
the blessed young ladies of St. Mary's may have the consolation of knowing 
that in a week or two their Easter offering will be scattered broad-cast through 
the mountains. 

The following lines will be of interest to all our friends of 
last year : 

Hendersonville, N. C, April 6th, 1884. 

May I ask of yon either through the medium of your paper, or verbally, 
to express to your school out most grateful thanks for their graceful tribute to 
the memory of our beloved daughter. The return of Easter will probably 
recall the little companion whose sojourn amongst them was alas! too brief 
and sad for them to estimate her many fine qualities of heart and mind. We 
cannot allow the season to pass without expressing our high appreciation of 
the touching token of their kind sympathy. 

We have had the words: " In memoriatn, M. K. Alston," carved at the 
foot of the altar, and intend to have the date inserted, which was omitted by 
mistake. If you will undertake this for us, you will greatly oblige, 

Ever yours sincerely, 

E. S. Alston. 


The success of the North Carolina Exhibit at Boston 
has given rise to a larger project; that of a State Exposition in 
Raleigh next fall. The President of the Exposition Company 
is the moving spirit of the enterprise, and deserves the heartfelt 
thanks of the public for his efforts. We recently gleaned from 
him some facts concerning the exposition, which may not be un- 
interesting to our readers. 

Few obstacles have arisen; the public has been neither reluc- 
tant, mistrustful, nor whimsical, but has heartily favored the 
enterprise, and eagerly co-operated with its managers. The en- 
thusiasm and energy displayed not only by counties, but by 
individuals, is beyond expectation. 

$T. MARY'S MUSE. 159 

The State has appropriated a large fund in order that the ex- 
hibit made at Boston by the Agricultural Department may be 
enlarged by about one-third. It has also contributed liberally 
toward t!ie building-fund, which will be increased by county 
contributions. The company has been fortunate enough to 
secure the Fair-grounds, which are well located and amply spa- 
cious. Certain structures which now stand sentinel against the 
western sky, and on which we are tired of gazing as we saunter 
through the grove taking exercise at morn and dewy eve, will be 
renovated, and a new main building will be added. Visitors 
will no longer be in danger of breaking their necks on old rickety 
stairways, or of having that second story in what is known as 
the "Agricultural Hall," fall under their weight. The new 
main building will be in the form of a square, occupying a space 
<>f 75,000 square feet, each side measuring 336 feet in length. 
The height of the building will be fifteen feet, of the roof nine. 
Each corner will be turreted and surmounted by a flag. There 
will be 150 or more windows, each of which will also have its 
flag. The inner quadrangle will be laid out in four courts, 
formed by the intersection of two avenues at right angles. It is 
claimed that the building will give thorough satisfaction to both 
visitors and exhibitors. If we may be allowed, we would most 
respectfully suggest another improvement, viz.: the removing of 
numerous hen-coops and cattle-pens, that usually disfigure the 
Fair. A series of elevated wire cages similar to those in Central 
Park Museum, Xew York, would be a good arrangement, and 
would secure infinitelv more comfort to the visitors and the 

Several counties seem to have caught the Atlanta spirit of en- 
terprise; they have applied for space outside the main building, 
on which to erect pavilions or booths for their own private ex- 
hibits. Lenoir is projecting great things. She purposes, it is 
said, to publish a hand-book and map of the county for distri- 
bution. Specimens of the mineral and agricultural products of 
each township will be shown, together with statistics of crops, 
schools, manufactories and everything to be found in the county. 


Vance has imbibed the same spirit, and exhorts the other 
counties to " embrace this golden opportunity, and make this 
North Carolina State Exposition the most jrrofitable event that 
has ever occurred within her borders." She will participate 
largely in the tobacco exhibit, though the display of Durham 
will undoubtedly defy comparison. The tobacco exhibit prom- 
ises to be the most showy on the grounds. This matter of 
tobacco culture is one of considerable interest, and deserves 
attention. North Carolina began not many years ago with a 
few tiny plants, which soon developed into two varieties of 
tobacco, the red and the yellow leaf. The former prospers in 
the rich, unctuous, heavy soil with red clay subsoil, the latter in 
the gray, sandy soil with yellow clay subsoil. The manufac- 
tories of this product in this State now number one hundred 
and nineteen. The North Carolina tobacco is renowned, and is 
sent over the world. (See census returns). 

The counties in the neighborhood of Albemarle Sound will 
unite their contributions, calling the whole the " Albemarle 
Exhibit." This will be a rare collection. Hyde will send some 
of her excellent corn, claimed to be the finest in the world, and 
samples of the Matamaskeet apple; Camden will contribute 
timbers and agricultural products; Dare, marls and conchs. 
Pasquotank will donate a little of everything; corn, tobacco, 
cotton, clover, hay, and potatoes of extraordinary size and flavor. 
Nothing is deemed too small, not even pea-nuts. To think of 
pea-nuts going to an Exposition ! We have supposed until 
recently that they did not aspire beyond a circus-tent, though 
they have been known to enter a Concert Hall. But despise 
not the clay of small things. The display of Perquimans and 
Chowan will be similar to that of Pasquotank, besides which 
Chowan will send marls, fish, and fishing apparatus. The great- 
est variety of birds and fishes will come from Currituck. The 
fisheries will make a beautiful exhibit. A new mode of pro- 
ducing fac-similes of fish upon plaster of Paris has been devised, 
by which some two hundred and fifty specimens of edible fish 
will be shown. We sincerely hope that an aquarium will not be 


forgotten. These plaster of Paris specimens we know will 
l>e beautiful, but live fish are much more interesting. 

The display of art and industry will be creditable. 

An interesting feature will be the silk department. Silk- 
worms and cocoons will be exhibited, and a new Incubator, the 
only one of the kind in the country. The silk-culture, though 
but recently begun, has been successful, and interest in it is 

North Carolina, with her mild climate and fertile soil which 
favor such a diversity of products (as that memorable young St. 
Maryite once asserted: "not only men and women, but things to 
feed them with"); her great water-powers which run the large 
grist and saw-mills, and the wool and cotton factories; and her 
extensive forests, not surpassed in any country — is able to do 
wonders. Xo doubt wonders will be done. 

North Carolina is no less remarkable for the size of her'trees 
than for the many varieties of each kind. Some of her walnuts 
measure twenty feet in circumference at distances of forty and 
fifty feet from the ground. The oaks, walnuts, maples, balsams, 
and sumachs are of the finest quality and admit of high polish. 
The " curly" specimens of walnut and poplar are as beautiful as 
can be found. Our mountains abound in these vigorous trees, 
so rare in other parts of the United States. 

The collection of gems will be small but fine. We have dia- 
monds, rubies, beryls, malachites, garnets, amethysts. Besides 
these, there is the Hiddenite, a recent and profitable discovery. 
Useful and rare minerals, such as corundum and flexible sand- 
stone, to say nothing of the quantities of quartz, mica, and soap- 
stone, are also plentiful. In our mountains are found beautiful 
marble of every tint, picrolite, and asbestos. 

Gold, copper, and iron are mined extensively in the western 
part of the State, and many coal mines are found in its centre. 

The Exposition has every prospect of success. Let all who 
still hold that ancient doctrine that North Carolina produces 
only tar, pitch, and turpentine, visit her capital next October. 


Politics abroad are at a stand-still. Gordon and the Mahdi 
have been playing an exciting game in the Soudan; it approaches 
the end and lo! it is drawn. 

France has taken Hung-Hoa, but makes no attempt either to 
garrison or to evacuate Tonquin. Marquis Tseng is ordered to 
Paris to complete negotiations. 

Russia, as usual, has made several arrests but no violent out- 
breaks have occurred among the Nihilists. 

Africa has quietly made France protector of a large portion of 
her territory. 

But at home, papers and magazines are raising the standard 
of reform. Men of learning, men of solid influence have too 
long withdrawn from politics. The elections are ruled by those 
whose sole aim is wealth. It is to their advantage to retard 
progress. The nation is awakening, she demands that honorable 
men shall govern her. The great question of the Presidential 
election in the fall is not whether the candidate be Democrat or 
Republican, but whether he will promote reform. The number 
of free voters increases yearly. The nation, emancipated from 
party rule, must, with one consent, raise to the Presidency an 
honorable, far-sighted man, one who unites rare administrative 
ability with a thorough knowledge of the real wants of the 

Judicial corruption is also prevalent, and nowhere more than 
in Cincinnati. Twenty years of laxity, bribery, and perjury 
have borne their fruit. The last straw was the outrageous ac- 
quittal of a self-confessed murderer. Anarchy was the result. 
But the late riots opened men's eyes to the extent of this corrup- 
tion. The remedy was severe but it will be effectual. 

But society as well as politics needs reform. The mass of mis- 
ery and suffering among the poor must be relieved. Though 
most generous in careless giving, our country in her rushing, 
hurried life is far behind England in systematized aid for the 
lower classes. But the New York "Improved Dwellings Asso- 
ciation," and similar societies in other large cities, show that we 
begin to realize this want. Magazines are full of articles bearing 


on tlie subject. Not only is the question of building new and 
more commodious houses discussed, but Miss Hill's practical plan 
for renovating the houses already standing is brought promi- 
nently forward. This great philanthropist's book, "The Homes 
of the London Poor," has brought into notice a great work. 
Miss Hill herself has shown what may be accomplished with 
.small resources. Other plans and systems are excellent and 
more extensive, but this is essential lv the one for those who have 
much energy and love, but little money to give. Her good, 
sound common sense carries weight. We are only beginning the 
good work, but what has already been done is an earnest of a 
rich harvest in the future. 

The dearth of "current topics " has forced us to turn our 
attention to music and the theatre, although the political world is 
still dear to us. We have occasionally a delightful visit from some 
artist, but most of our musical treats come second-hand. And 
the pleasure given by the glowing acccounts of Materna, Win- 
kelmann, and Scaria is no mean one. The country is enthusiastic 
over Materna, the great illustrator of Wagnerian opera. Her 
perfect enunciation, the compass of her voice and its marvellous 
sweetness are highly extolled. Materna has long been one of 
Germany's favorite singers, and during the last ten years her 
name has become inseparably linked with Wagner's operas. The 
magnificent Wagner concerts recently given in Boston, Xew 
York, and Baltimore are a splendid earnest of what the whole 
operas would be. Most of these have never been performed in 
America; and in them scenic effect is so closely united with that 
of the orchestra and dramatic action that selections from them 
given in the concert-room may even be wearisome. Indeed it is a 
question whether such dismemberment should be allowed. But 
the fact remains that these concerts have been enthusiastically 
received. Could the operas be given entire as they are in Ger- 
many, how elevating would be the results! 

Scaria possesses a rich bass voice, and charms by his perfect 
art as well as by his fine singing, but he shows Italian train- 


164 ST. .MARY'S MUSE. 

ing, and is therefore not so perfect a representative of German 
style. Herr Winkelmann is by far the youngest of the three, 
and his power as yet depends almost entirely on the beautiful 
quality of his full tenor voice, though he gives promise of attain- 
ing high excellence in his art. Materna, Winkelmann and Sca- 
ria at the Metropolitan Opera-House, and Patti and Gerster at 
the Academy of Music, have given New York musical treats 
which will not soon be forgotten; while the combined force of 
the two companies at the Abbey benefit produced an effect rarely 
equalled. That New Yorkers fully appreciated the magnificent 
music as well as the feeling which prompted the benefit is shown 
by the fact that some of the boxes sold at fabulous prices. 

Mr. Irving and Miss Terry have been the stars of the dra- 
matic world, and their return to the city after Easter was eagerly 

On the whole, the New York season has been exceptionally 

Some of us hope to visit the great city next winter; and al- 
though we may not find so glorious a collection of artists, we 
know that our bright anticipations of the city's attractions will 
be fully realized. 


" The Story of Chinese Gordon," by Egmont Hake, has 
been issued most opportunely. General Gordon is pre-eminently 
the man of the day. The newspapers are full of him, his name 
is on the lips of millions. His wonderful adventures and com- 
plete successes in China and his equally brilliant though more 
quiet conquests in the Soudan place him high in the list of Eng- 
lish commanders. "The General of the Ever- Victorious Army," 
the Chinese called him. Mr. Hake's book is very interesting. 
We see the quiet, self-contained boy (scarcely more) at Sebastopol, 
always ready for the fiercest action, yet cheerfully fulfilling his 


simple duty as engineer. No one praised him, no one knew 
when it was that he especially distinguished himself, but at the 
close of the siege his name was sent back to England among 
those honorably distinguished. We see hi in in his manhood, 
composedly acting as General of the Chinese army and Governor- 
General of the Soudan, and afterwards as composedly working 
among the London poor. He never appropriates praise even 
where it is most justly deserved. Yet China worships him and 
Egypt not long ago showered the most lavish praises upon him, 
and all this glory came unsought. He made the people love him, 
he was permitted to help them, and that was all he asked. He 
is a man fanatically true to his purpose, a little eccentric and 
somewhat scorned by the prosaic and the worldly for his child- 
like faith. As we close the book, we feel that we have lived for 
a time with a man whose life is pure, true, rarely equalled in its 
glorious simplicity. 

But while the subject of the book is of absorbing interest the 
style is often poor. Several passages are very complicated, and 
the author's peculiar choice of words is frequently puzzling. 
For instance one would imagine from his narrative that Gordon, 
when he left England in 1860, was merely taking a pleasure 
trip, " visiting Malta, Alexandria, Singapore, and Hong Kong." 
It is rather startling, a sentence or two farther on, to encounter 
the allies (of whom no previous mention has been made) march- 
ing on Pekin. 

Then Mr. Hake has made a singular omission in subject-mat- 
ter. Every one likes to know the age of a person of note. Now 
we can form no exact idea of General Gordon's age. We do 
think that without detriment to the story, we might have been 
told when aud where he was born. 

The author has forgotten Horace's old rule: 

" -Nonumque prematur in annum, 

" Membranis intus positis" 

and the time spent in revision has evidently been short. 



We have heard music which pleased, delighted, touched 
us, but ah ! the music which raises us above the earth, draws 
tears from our eyes, and stirring the very depths of the soul, 
rouses its uoblest impulses ! We have heard Remenyi. What 
fascination hangs about the man and the violin! While he 
played every eye was fixed upon him, yet with unseeing, absent 
gaze; and when the last tone died away, we awoke as from a 
blissful dream in which we would have lingered forever. 

When we asked our Director how he liked Kemenyi's Hunga- 
rian Melodies, he replied, " I cannot say now, I will tell you pres- 
ently." This must still express our thoughts, which ever seems 
about to fathom their subtle charm. Having no words where- 
with to thank the great Virtuoso, we sent him the next day some 
flowers, and in reply, received the following note: 

To all the Ladies of St. Mary's School : 

Orbi et Urbi. 

My Dear Ladies: — Thanks for the beautiful flowers. I will thank yon 
this evening with her ladyship (my violin). She will speak for me. With 
gratitude, my dear ladies, I am the old gentleman and fiddler, 

Edouakd Eemenyi. 

He came, and every word and look charmed us anew. He 
would not have us in the parlor, where we had gathered to re- 
ceive him, but led the wav to the school-room where "he could 
see better and it would be more natural." He sat at a desk and 
chatted gaily for awhile, cunningly singling out for notice the 
beauties of the school, and charming all by his original sayings 
and quaint accent. When, at length, he rose and took the vio- 
lin lovingly from the case, every sound was hushed and the lit- 
tle instrument sang our very hearts away. 

The artist's soul was revelling in sweet melodj, when the 
shrill whistle of the train jarred upon his reverie, and he started 


as from a sudden blow. It was wonderful to see the readiness 
with which he forgot all in his music. He and the violin seemed 
to know each other's thought, and when together, desired no bet- 
ter company. Well indeed may the Pope whom he so strongly 
resembles have envied such genius, and, with admiration, called 
him the <; Pope of the violin." 

We pleaded long for Schubert's Serenade, but without success, 
until Remenyi acknowledged himself bribed by the gift of a 
buneh of violets from a lovely blossom, herself fairer than the 
flowers she offered. When he had finished playing we took 
him into the sitting-room, enthroned him in a large arm-chair, 
and " we Seniors " had him all to ourselves and eagerly listened 
to his every word. One or two sick girls also were admitted, as 
a great privilege, to be of the party; and the two oldest babies 
(not the twins), the pets of the house, came hand-in-hand to see 
the great violinist. 

We were having such a pleasant talk that we did not notice 
how the time was passing until we found that the train would 
leave in a few minutes, and Remenyi must go. There was just 
time for a run to the Chapel and a hasty but hearty good-bye, 
and we stood watching the carriage as it rolled away with the 
artist and his violin. We may never see them again, but they 
will ever be one of the bright spots in our memories. 

The thirteenth of February, the anniversary of Wag- 
ner's death, was celebrated in all the principal cities of Germany 
by the performance of his works on the stage and in the concert- 
room. In the Leipzig Theatre were given, during that week, 
the operas, "Lohengrin," " Meistersinger," " Fliegender Hol- 
lander," "Rienzi," and " Tannhauser." 

At the Hamburg Theatre the anniversary of Wagner's death 
was celebrated before a full house. The conductor of the 
orchestra, Sucher, had chosen for the introduction the sad mel- 
ody of " Todkiindigung" (Foreboding of Death), from the sec- 
ond act of the " Walkiire." As the curtain rose, the scene pre- 
sented was a company of mourners before a flower-strewn grave ; 

168 ST. MARY'S 31 USE. 

near by stood a bust of the Master on a high pedestal. Then 
Herr Hoeli recited a prologue composed for the occasion by 
Adolf Philipp. At the conclusion the effect was heightened by 
an ingenious apotheosis in which appeared groups from all 
Wagner's musical dramas ; Valhalla was seen in the background, 
and the orchestra rendered the funeral march from the " Gotter- 
dammerung." Then, after a short pause, followed a perform- 
ance of " Tristan and Isolde," in which Frau Rosa Sucher 
admirably rendered the part of Isolde. 

A correspondent from Bayrenth gives an account of the cele- 
bration of the thirteenth of February in that city : 

"A commemoration of the first anniversary of Richard Wag- 
ner's death, to which only the performers and those specially 
interested could obtain admission, took place this morning at 
ten o'clock, in the music-hall of the Villa Wahnfried. It was 
introduced by a chorale with organ accompaniment, followed by 
scenes from the first act of " Parsifal," Wagner's last work. 
Afterwards the performers went with Wagner's children to 
place innumerable bouquets and garlands on his grave." 

IiST St. Petersburg, February 3. — When Rubinstein re- 
appears in the theatre or concert-hall of this city after a long 
absence, it is interesting to observe with what irresistible power 
his personality immediately claims and sways the entire audience. 
What is presented on the boards or in the concert-room often 
proves a weariness to the soul. But when "our most glorious 
one" appears in person on the estrade to conduct one of his or- 
chestral compositions, or when one of his piano-forte recitals is 
in prospect, then the rejoicing, the enthusiasm, which expresses 
itself in repeated salvos of applause, knows no bounds. The 
entire audience, great and small, rises and in a unique manner 
and with unparalleled emotion receives its matchless, fame- 
crowned darling. 

A correspondent writes from Vienna to the Leipzig Illus- 
trated Times : 

"Rubinstein's first concert was a brilliant success. All the seats 
in the great music-hall were engaged a long time beforehand; 


the entire audience, chiefly from the highest class of society, ap- 
peared in full dress. In the court box were the Crown Prince 
and Princess and several Archdukes. When the eminent artist 
appeared, he was greeted with a burst of applause which was 
repeated after every number that he executed, and which, at the 
end of the performance, continued until Rubinstein, who had 
played uninterruptedly (two short pauses excepted) for two hours 
and a half, sat down once more at the incomparable Eozendoij 
and rendered Chopin's " Bercense " and " Auffordering zur 
Xachtruhe." How he played needs no description. We shall 
hear him twiceascain in Bozendorf's Hall and in a farewell con- 
cert with the orchestra in the Music Hall. All the seats for 
these concerts are already taken. Meanwhile Rubinstein is al- 
ready on the way to Pesth." 

In looking over the opera-repertoire for different Ger- 
man cities we observe a tendency to introduce the Italian and 
French operas, instead of, as hitherto, only favoring the works of 
German composers. In this introduction of foreign compositions 
Vienna takes the lead; Hanover is the most conservative, but 
everywhere the most popular works are the "Lohengrin" and 
" Tannhauser" of Wagner, and "Carmen," that brilliant effu- 
sion of French genius. 

If the virtuoso and the actor have much in common, 
in so far as both have no higher aim than to gain the admiration 
of their contemporaries by their gift and dexterity, they resemble 
each other most in death; they scarcely escape the sad fate of 
being forgotten; the mournful truth of Schiller's words, "Pos- 
terity twines no garlands for the actor," applies equally well to 
hundreds of famous violinists and pianists. How seldom does a 
virtuoso remain in the height of his glory through one generation ; 
how much more seldom does posterity pronounce with the same 
enthusiasm and admiration a name that was once dear to the 
hearts of countless numbers. 

In the ease of Xicolo Paganini, the centennial of whose birth- 
day the world should have celebrated on the eighteenth of Feb- 


ruary, we find an exception. He has been dead already forty- 
four years, and how few of our contemporaries can boast of hav- 
ing heard him. He did not appear in public after 1836. Nev- 
ertheless, the present generation listens eagerly, to learn some- 
thing of that wonderful appearance of which our elders feel con- 
strained to speak enthusiastically. And who would propose to 
meet that enthusiasm to-day with artistic calmness? He must, 
indeed, have been the most wonderful appearance of the age, 
who entranced millions of hearts,, who made such an impression 
on a Franz Liszt that his first hearing of the violinist marked a 
new era of zeal and ambition ; who counted among his most 
ardent admirers a Hector Berlioz in France and Robert Schu- 
mann in Germany. At his home in Genoa, as a wonderful 
child, Paganini drew to himself the attention of the art patrons 
of that place. He had not enjoyed the instruction of his father, 
a skillful violinist, very long, before he surpassed his teacher; 
the musical director of the cathedral, Giacomo Costa, the finest 
violinist of Genoa, undertook his further instruction. In spite 
of the great contrast between the teacher, instructing according 
to the good old method with the most painful solicitude, and the 
boy, stamped with genius, to whom this discipline was repulsive 
and tyrannical, such instruction proved wholesome. His father 
watched him with the severity of a censor, and it is quite possi- 
ble that this training worked unfavorably on the character of the 
boy, and implanted the germs of that reserve and distrust from 
which, in after years, he was seldom free. He soon broke the 
yoke that Costa had imposed upon him, but it was a difficult 
task to find another suitable teacher. He went next to Rolla, 
the most celebrated violinist in Parma, who, when he heard the 
boy play perfectly at first sight a manuscript concerto, openly 
confessed that he could teach the young artist nothing. At last 
it was decided that Paer must be the man suited to the task; and 
from him Paganini went forth the brilliant phenomenon that 
should eclipse all competition. All the more important towns of 
Italy re-echoed with his fame, and the pecuniary results were 
wonderful. Mozart in his concert tours did not get one-twen- 
tieth of the receipts which were delivered to Nicolo Paganini. 

-ST. MARY'S MUSE. 171 

Not until 1828 did ho determine to go abroad; and as soon 
as he crossed the Alps, he became not an Italian but a European 
celebrity. In Vienna, he had scarcely drawn the first tone from 
his "Guarnerius," a present from his admirers in Leghorn, when 
the Imperial City was electrified; for those apparitions dignified 
by Hoffmann in his romantic and popular fairy tales appeared 
to have come down from the realm of fancy into reality. When 
the virtuoso, with the dark, dreamy eyes and black locks entered 
the concert-hall with that strange smile, behind which some weird 
mystery seemed to lurk; when he who stepped upon the stage so 
lightly seemed thrilled by a magic spell as soon he touched the 
boAv, and with deepest passion poured forth his soul in music, 
everything became dumb as if struck by a spirit-power. But 
was it only the amazing boldness, the wonderful security of tech- 
nique, that raised Paganini above all earlier and contemporary 
violinists? Xo; it was much more the entirely new style and 
manner, the new spirit which breathed so powerfully through 
his playing. He extended greatly the compass of his instru- 
ment; he raised the flageolet to an incredible perfection; and 
polyphonic playing under him reached its highest pinnacle. But 
he laid little stress on these things, he attached no value to his 
wonderful skill with the guitar, attention to which instrument he 
did not consider worthy of an artist. 

Paganini occupies an isolated position for this reason — he was 
the first to throw down the gauntlet to the traditions of the 
classic school and to anuounce individual taste as the only stan- 

His life was rich in romantic incidents. To-day he won thou- 
sands at the card-table, to-morrow found himself in the most 
pressing difficulties. On one occasion, by paying a considerable 
sum of money, he saved Hecter Berlioz from bankruptcy ; on 
others he posed as a wizard and a miser. The great contradic- 
tions in his character stamp him as a hero of romance. Robert 
Schumann, when a vouth, felt himself drawn to Paaanini as to a 
kindred spirit, and paraphrased many of his caprices upon the 
piano. He also dedicated to him a particular number in the 

172 ST. .MARY'S If USE. 

Paganini's few but instructive compositions rank as technical 
problems, in the solution of which seldom has any one except the 
master succeeded. For teaching, such an abnormal personality 
was scarcely suited. Sivori is his only famous pupil and he re- 
flects his master only in a few externals. 

The name and fame of Paganini, as the greatest of all violin 
virtuosos will long be renowned ; and Italy, who in the latter half 
of the eighteenth century produced a Cherubini, a Spontini and 
a Rossini, is also to be envied, in that she produced a Paganini. 

FOUNDED 1842. 





H@jf° A Corps of Fourteen Efficient Instructors. Thorough 
-teaching guaranteed. French taught by a native; German by 

an American educated in Germany. - Latin a requisite-thr-a- 
4iil4 Diploma. Great attentions^ paid to Mathematics and 



One of the Best Equipped Schools of Music in the South. 

Separate buildings; five teachers — one from the Stuttgart, 
one from the Leipsic Conservatory ; a fine Vocalist ; sixteen 
Pianos for daily practice — two new Concert Grands for con- 
cert use; a Cabinet Organ; a fine Pipe Organ, with two 
manuals and twenty stops, and the only Pedal Piano south of 
New York. 


Under the charge of able and enthusiastic artists. The Course 
comprises Drawing in Pencil, Crayon and Charcoal ; Painting 
in Oil, Water Colors and Pastel, and Decorating China in 

The Physical Development of the pupils 
thoroughly cared for. 

The Eighty-fifth Term Begins September 12, 1884. 

For Circulars containing full particulars, apply to the Rector. 













EUGENE G. HARRELL, - Managing Editor. 






Fayetteville Street, 







jl (|uarltHn ftagazine, 



Vol. VI. RALEIGH. N. C. JUNE, 1884. No. 4. 


Robert and Elizabeth Browning — Annie H. Philips 173 

The Problem of Reform — Elizabeth D. Battle 177 

Nature's Genii —Martha A. Dowd i 179 

Les Francaises Celebres — Emilie R. Smedes 183 

Enthusiasm — Emilie W. McVea 185 

Fish in General, and Shad in Particular — Mary H. Hinlon, 

Jan. B 188 

The Art of Cooking — Bessie W. McLean, .Tun. B..... 191 

The Children's Entertainment — Sophia D. Thurmond, Sen. B.... 196 

The Literary Entertainment — Sophia D. Thurmond, Sen. B 197 

Editorial 199 

List of Graduates 205 

Distinctions 206 

Roll of Honor 207 

Programmes 209 

Report of Offertory 213 

Report of Alumnae-Meeting 214 

Notice to the Alumnae 215 


215 j 

Art-Notes : 




Entered at tie Post Office in Raleigh at second-class rates. 


Vol. VI. Raleigh, N. C, June, 18S4. No. 4. 


We moderns find our fairy-land in sunny Italy. For the his- 
torian she has leg-ends and annals ; for the philosopher, a vast field 
for thought and speculation; for the poet, his ideal. Milton, 
the stern Puritan, wandered long over these storied lands. Cliau- 
' cer felt his poet's soul inspired, by the beauties of Genoa and 
Padua and Florence. Keats breathed his last in wonderful 
Rome. And when Robert Browning crossed the Alps, he was 
but following the poet's impulse. As he stepped into Florence, 

. "A dry 

Life-time spent at home in college learning" 
" Was flooded with a passion unaware." 

He saw pure heights of beauty in the great, white cliffs ; 
he heard a holy voice in the moaning of the wind, and the rust- 
ling of the green trees of Valombrosa; he saw a Maker's love 
mirrored in the warm sun and clear Italian sky. So he learned 
to love Florence, the city of flowers, the home of poets, and 
settled there, that in Dante's home 

" His soul might right its nature." 

Far off, in England, from a sufferer's couch, another "chief 
musician" was raising her note. Xot a poor, tired, wandering 
singer, singing through the dark "as sad years rolled by"; for 
life was not dreary. The sick-room was gladsome enough for 
that bright spirit, for it held her books, and books were the true 
life of Elizabeth Barrett. AVhat ordinary minds call the drudgr- 
cry of reading was her greatest solace when her body was tortured 


with pain. She sounded the depths of Latin, and read "the 
rhythmic Greek." Often the book was laid aside, and the fer- 
tile brain would give to the world 

"Some thought that lay like a flower on her heart." 

Thus, men gradually learned to know her and to crown her 
their greatest poetess, and the "echoes of the nation's praises 
reached her from far off." 

These were the twin souls soon to be brought together. A 
delicate compliment became the medium of introduction. Brown- 
ing was as yet unknown. His thought was deeply metaphysical, 
his style obscure, the world in general denounced his writing as 
incomprehensible. But when England's great songstress gave 
forth her verdict upon Browning's Pomegranates, 

" Which, when cut deep down the middle, 
Show a heart within, blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity," 

the young poet's soul recognized its counterpart, and two years 
later won it. 

There is a house in Florence which all women must love, for 
Casa Guidi was the home of the poetess of women. Everything 
lends to it a dreamy stillness^the gray, ivy-grown Santa Felice 
opposite, the gentle southern breeze, the snow r -capped Apennines 
in the distance, and the waving green trees at their base. Directly 
under its flower-covered balcony the golden Arno 

"Shoots on and cleaves the marble as it goes 

And froths the cornice out in glittering rows." 

What wonder that the woman who lived in this peace for fif- 
teen years bore the charm of a " soul knowing the great word which 
makes all things new." The deep heart of humanity was her 
confidant. Her every feeling found utterance, however tenderly 
and transparently veiled. " I yield the grave for thy sake," she 
wrote to her husband, "and exchange my near sweet view of 
heaven for earth with thee." But earth with him meant not 
a life of blind devotion to his love. The large-souled 

.ST. MARY'S MUSE. 175 

woman found a cause to write for in her own time. She wrote 
of love and duty and patriotism ; she wrote for justice and right 
and liberty. She did not 

"Trundle back her soul five hundred years," 

"For everv aye," she says, 

"Through being beheld too closely is ill-discerned, 

By those who have not lived past it. 

* * * •* 

But poets should exert 

A double vision, should have eyes 

To see near things as comprehensively 

As if afar they took their point of sight." 

The noble woman wrought a noble work. From afar, she 
supported Englishmen in their efforts to better the social condi- 
tion of the poor. She stirred up good men's sympathies to pass 
the bill forbidding the living burial of innocent babes in the toil 
of mines and factories. She gave her name and influence to 
the great struggle which restored Italy to her place among nations. 

Mrs. Browning says in Aurora Leigh: 

"'Tis impossible to get at men excepting through their souls, 
For which you must not overlook the poet's works," 

and in Robert Browning's works we find the genuine poet and 
the gifted scholar. But they require study, which the popular 
mind has not the time to give. It is for the few to discover his 
subtlety of conception, his insight into the human heart, and to 
class him among the great of the nineteenth century. Landor 
says of him : 

"Since Chaucer was alive and hale, 
No man hath walked along our roads 
With step so active, so inquiring eye, 
Or tongue so varied in discourse. 
For Shakespeare is not our poet, but the world's." 

His early poems are fired with all the hope and pride of youth. 

" We ask just to put forth our human strength, 
All starting fairly, all equipped alike, 
All eagle-eyed, true-hearted." 

176 -ST. MARY'S MUSE. 

But they are also wondrously tender. Colombe's Birthday is 
exquisite in its chivalry. Again and again he brings in some 
homely maxim we have been taught to revere, — 

" Had I thought, all had gone otherwise," 

is the sigh of many a poor Tresham. "Discover good on the worst 
side, and magnify proportionally the much more good on the better 
side," he writes in "A Soul's Tragedy." Frequently, however, his 
thought became sceptical. But from the happy day of his marriage, 
he seems to have forgotten these earlier views. The wife 's influence 
proved the grandeur and nobility of love. In his Paracelsus, writ- 
ten in 1836, he represents the great chemist of the sixteenth century, 
all hope and daring, predicting the future, working his cures, claim- 
ins; to be the legitimate monarch of the world of medicine. But 
disappointments and defeats at last teach him that the perfect hero 
must be something besides head; heart alone gives life and hap- 
piness. " Love gives life ; highest love gives highest life ; life is 
nothing without love," wrote Hans Christian Andersen. And 
in 1846 wrote Robert Browning, "Where my heart lies, let my 
brain lie also." His heart had learned the truth that his mind 
had recognized ten years before. It was after his marriage that 
he pictured Andrea and Norbert, and all his fifty men and women, 
and wrote his "Easter Day" and his "Christmas." 

" My perfect wife, my own ! 
I must feel your brain prompt mine, your heart 
Anticipate mine. 

* 4fc ■% * & -9t * 

You see 
And make me see new depths of the Divine." 

His influence upon her may be traced in " Casa Guidi Win- 
dows" and in "Aurora Leigh." 

Husband and wife ! The work of each is based upon the 

other. "The world waits for help," the wife said: 

"Beloved, let us love so well, 
Our work shall still be better for our love, 
And still our love be sweeter for our work, 
And both, commended for the sake of each, 
By all true workers and true lovers born." 

ST. MARY'S MU8E. 177 


The political and social difficulties of the present time show a 
striking resemblance to the Hydra which the mythical Hercules 
slew ; and, like the unwise giant, the world attacks the heads sep- 
arately, instead of at once proceeding to destroy the common sup- 
port of all. 

Upon examination it will be found, I think, that almost every 
political and social difficulty can be referred to this one thing, 
the accumulation of money in the hands of the few, and the con- 
sequent poverty, shame, and misery of the masses. The aristoc- 
racy of wealth has power to crush the laboring classes, to give 
them the merest pittance on which life can be sustained, to grind 
down men, women and children, regardless of sex or age. What 
is the cause of the increasing strikes which paralyze business'? 
\\ 'hat was it that first set on foot such an immense organization as 
that of the Nihilists, and which causes them to use those fiendish 
weapons, dynamite and nitroglycerine? What is it that causes, 
from time to time, an Irish landowner to be shot down like a 
thief in the dark? What but the grinding poverty which crowds 
human beings by hundreds in a miserable tenement-house, or 
leaves them in shanties not fit for brutes; which causes women 
and children to cry and moan for "Bread!" and men for "Re- 
venge I" 

Many and various arc the remedies proposed for these evils, 
but no one has ever yet found their cure. Alms-houses, hospitals, 
prisons and insane asylums have been in part the outcome of 
human efforts to alleviate them, but with what effect? Are the 
numbers of the poor, the sick, the miserable lessened? Are the 
numbers of those in comfortable circumstances increased? And 
in what way do political economists account for this steady 
increase of poverty with that of civilization and wealth? 

Henry George, who, in his work "Progress and Poverty," 
attempts to overturn the established theories of such economists, 
says, and brings forward their own words in support of his asser- 


tion, that they seem to accept the Malthusian doctrine, that pov- 
erty is the natural result of a surplus of labor caused by over- 
population, and therefore, as a consequence, people are beginning 
to look upon it as a natural thing which they could not better if 
they would. He differs with them on their theories concerning 
both capital and wages, and finally comes to the conclusion that 
such poverty could not exist were not land private property. He 
proposes to abolish all taxes except those on land, and to increase 
these until they equal the rent from the adjacent unimproved 
land, thus practically making each landowner a tenant of govern- 
ment. According to him, no longer would there be any strikes, 
no longer would the kings and emperors of the old world tremble 
at the thought of the Nihilists, no longer would we hear across 
the sea the heart-rending cry for bread for the Irish. All work- 
ing together in fraternity and cooperation, restful peace and smil- 
ing plenty would inhabit the land. Here at last would be the 
Utopia of which Sir Thomas Moore dreamed. But alas ! the 
scheme is indeed Utopian. It can never be realized. 

But for the sake of argument, grant his theory. First, on what 
would its working depend? 

Upon what but a world-wide fraternity and cooperation ? This 
evidently could not be accomplished without some stronger and 
closer bond of union than that of a universal government. All 
the habits of men, their very natures without the elevating in- 
fluence of Christianity, are against it. Race prejudices always 
have been and always will be strong. It is natural for the strong 
to prey upon the weak, the lazy to attempt to live upon the labor 
of the industrious ; and who attempts to overcome their natures 
without some strong motive for so doing? 

Secondly, will its results be lasting? The mind of man does 
hot improve as the centuries roll on. That there have been 
intellects of as high an order as there will be, must be 
granted by all. The attempt to equalize property is by no means a 
new one. It has been tried over and over again, with various 
degrees of temporary success, but that the success was only 


temporary, the dead empires and civilization of Rome, Greece, 
and Egypt too truly show, for the effect of inequality is 
to destroy these things. Just so long as the people of the 
Roman empire remained free, holding no slaves, and each and 
every member possessing a plot of ground, just so long did the 
Roman empire flourish ; the beginning of the end being coin- 
cident with the discontinuance of this, and with the distribution 
of corn to the populace by the state, a practice continued by the 
corrupt rich for purposes of bribery. 

Let us from these theories turn to Christianity. Perhaps here 
we may find our solution. What are its tea chinos ? Their very 
foundation is equality. The rich are commanded to divide their 
property among the poor, and both alike to believe in a common 
Father. On what are the best of the civil laws founded? on 
what but the Decalogue? Consider the additions made to these 
by the Xew Dispensation. Hear the Sermon on the Mount, and 
ponder. Is there anything in the study of Ethics that the earn- 
est student cannot find here, and far more? Its teaching is em- 
bodied in the golden rule. Are race prejudices considered? Xo, 
a thousand times no ! Was not the gospel preached alike to Jew 
and Gentile? Xow, suppose the truths contained in it were uni- 
versally accepted, what result would ensue? Ah! it requires a 
prophet's vision to foretell them fully. Here is the motive which 
shall enable the world to combat its fallen nature, here the foun- 
dation on which true equality will begin. A vision? Yes, but 
a vision of a reality, when at length shall have arrived the 
reign of the Prince of Peace. 


The genii of the olden time, of the time of the Arabian 
Xights, had a habit of appearing at the critical moment to some 
beautiful prince or princess doomed to sorrow or destruction. 


Then with one powerful word, one touch of the magic wand, 
clouds were scattered, difficulties overcome, the unhappy ones 
were snatched from distress and poverty and borne to scenes of joy 
and magnificence. 

The genii were jealous for their mystic art and, lest the eye of 
mortal should spy out the secrets of their race, they worked their 
enchantments in the darkness when the world was in sleep. 
Then did they fly with "inconceivable swiftness" through the 
air; then they busied themselves with building palaces which, on 
the morrow, dazzled all eyes. The forms of these beings did not 
correspond with those of their glorious creations. Mystery 
enshrouded them, and they struck terror to the hearts of all who 
were not emboldened by the courage of despair. 

But this was long ago, and genii have ceased to show themselves 
on earth, and to interfere, whether for good or evil, in the affairs 
of men. Perhaps their race has been destroyed, perhaps they have 
withdrawn to other worlds where children still are credulous. 
Whatever the cause, they have disappeared long since and no one 
seems to expect their return. In their stead, modern wisdom 
finds a host of invisible powers, which were in existence before 
the rebel sons of Eblis, and vet have outlived them. As we 
think of all their magic transformations and works of beauty, let 
us give these the name of the extinct tribe and call them Nature's 

These, too, rarely disclose themselves to men, but their pres- 
ence is powerfully manifest. Obedient are they to whomsoever 
knows the word of command. Men, the noblest and best, have 
spent their lives in seeking the wonder-working talisman till, 
when about to give up the search, an accident revealed it, and 
they found themselves surrounded in Nature by a tribe of friendly 
giants ready to undertake the hardest tasks. They lie slumber- 
ing and inactive, not in glorious, gilded palaces out of human 
reach, but in unadorned dwellings of gum or rock or metal, such 
humble homes that man did not dream of the power within until 
it was brought forth by what to him was an accident, but to the 


hidden geni an inviolable law. Only the highest minds dare 
commune with such spirits, and even they, at first, are timid and 
cautious, not knowing what monster thev may be exciting to fury. 
Omnipresent and strangely linked with the lives of men is he 
who was first found in a bit of amber. The ancients, surprised 
and terrified, thought only to avoid him. Upon further evidence 
of his power, thev feared greatly, and would gladly have thrust 
him hack into his narrow prison and barred the door; hut, at 
length, curiosity overcame fear and thev tried endless means of 
arousing the unknown. Thev found that this geni pervaded 
the world; that he had a brother; that thev worked together 
for their strength is in their union, hut that they were not always 
at peace. They not only claim the whole earth for their habita- 
tion hut dwell also in the clouds. Sometimes the northern skic> 
gleam with unwonted radiance while the genii give to men a glori- 
ous vision of their home. At other times, the skies grow dark 
and terrible while the two angry spirits riding on the blast rush 
together, the blinding flash and resounding peal showing the 
might of their conflict. Once when man dared ignorantly to 
use the magic charm, the spirit came obedient to his call, but the 
blackened and lifeless form of his summoner told the penalty of 
rashness. Yet tamed, this is the messenger who with "incon- 
ceivable swiftness" bear- man's words from land to land, guides 
the seaman over distant waters, changes night into day and, 

"Quickened by the solar beam, 
Invests each atom with a force supreme." 

There is another spirit who makes the universe the home of 
his invisible might. Often when seemingly destroved, he is but 
exhibiting a new phase of his mysterious strength. All-power- 
ful, he yet scorns no smallest work, lie shapes the jewels with 
which another geni adorns the flowers: he swings the worlds in 
their course, restrains his brethren, when in their eagerness they 
would seek a freer sphere; and, binding and guiding the whole, he 
makes harmony the law of the geni-kingdom. 

A gentle spirit comes down from the sun, flooding all his path 


with beauty, bringing with him radiant glories, the sight of which 
fills men's hearts with longing for a nearer view. At his greet- 
ing, long-hidden mysteries of the spirit-world open to men. 

Are these then the rulers of the geni-kingdom ? No. With 
the geni whose chariot is the sunbeam conies a subtler spirit who 
insinuates himself where least expected, and breathes his own 
ardent energy into all the race. So marvellous and universal is his 
influence, that men once thought him not only King of the Genii, 
but the creative power from which all things spring, even the 
human soul. Together, these twin-genii work their miracles of 
beauty and of power. Their olx j dient servant who has his home in 
brooks and streams and ocean-depths cannot follow them to their 
far off birth-place, but, on earth, he ever works at their commands. 
Through him, they clothe the world with flowers and herbs, rare 
treasures sought by the beauty to enhance her charms, and by 
the philosopher for his weird work. Together, they prepare the 
wintry mantle, white and shining, with which they tenderly en- 
wrap the earth. Of old, they chiselled its surface and prepared 
it for man ; and still they level the mountains, create new lands 
and make their energizing force felt everywhere. But beware 
the revels of their uncurbed wantonness, when they dance through 
the laud with a rush and roar of boisterous play, catching huge 
masses in their arms and tossing them on high with a proud con- 
sciousness of strength. This outburst is terrible, but brief; soon 
they are weary ; then they sigh and moan for the waste they 
have made. 

Such is the beneficent work of Nature's Genii. They rarely 
work alone, for they are naturally dependent upon each other and 
their glories show forth more plainly when they act in harmony. 
As one by one, their wonders unfold, it seems to man that around 
him lies hidden "all that the old world had of beautiful which 
the new world is not worthy to enjoy." 

Is it strange that sometimes the Creator is forgotten in His 
works? Yet surely, these do not lose, but gain in grandeur, 
when we learn that Nature's Genii are the laws of God, " Who 
only doeth wondrous things." 



Cest un fait remarquable que les femmes do la France out 
toujours joue uu rule eminent dans la literature et la politique de 
leur pays. Ailleurs ce role-ci n'est pas souvent l'objet d'attention 
aux femmes, et ne leur est rarement entierement entendu. En 
France, oependantj nous trouvons que les salons des dames ont ete 
les rendez-vous des savants, soit poetes, soit erudits, soit philoso- 
pher, et les pepinieres des factions et des ca bales politiques. 

Madame de Rambouillet s'est rendue celebre par l'Stablissement 
du premier de ces salons, et iei se concentraient non seulement tout 
le talent litteraire mais les grands interests politiques du temps, des 
guerres de la Fronde. Les Duchesses de Longueville et de 
Chevreuse, Madame Deshoulieres, et d'autres, dont les noms sont 
inseparablement lies a ces guerres, parceq'elles en etaient Tame 
meme, se rencontraient dans ce salon. Les auteurs les plus 
renommes de la coterie etaient Madame de La Fayette, dont les 
roinans produisirent une revolution dans ce departement de la 
litterature, et Madame de Sevigne aux lettres charmantes et 
completes de laquelle, nous devons des descriptions vives et 
interessantes des scenes et des personnages du dix-septieme siecle. 

L'interet que les dames des salons ont niontre dans les affaires 
du pays pent etrc explique par leur association intime avec les 
homines. Mais on ne pent se rendre compte de la vie de la 
Pucelle d'Orleans, de son zele patriote, et de sa determination fixe 
qui contrastent si nettement avec la simplicity de sou coeur, que 
par une allusion a ^inspiration qui devait former son motif domi- 
nant. Le secret de son success consiste en ceci, que la condition 
superstitieuse du temps la permit d'insinuer a ses soldats et ii 
ceux contre lesquels elle combattait, une croyance dans l'inspira- 
tion de sa mission. 

II semble que la France ne recompense ses nobles femmes que 
de la couronne du martyr. Jeanne d'Arc la recut d'une ame 
calme et tranquille qui annonce la conscience d'une noble mission 
bien accomplie. 


Dans les jours affreux de la Terreur dont le recit da* scenes et sanguinaires nous fait reculer, mais qui cependant 
exerce sur nous une fascination sinistre, il y a quelquechose qui 
attire l'esprit et remplit Fame des emotions d'admiration et de 
respect. En contraste frappant avec la faiblesse ou la tyrannie qui 
dominaieut les homines, les femmes se sont montrees dcvouees, 
nobles, brillantes comme des etoiles. Madame Roland en est la 
plus eclatante. Elle n'etait pas excitee comme Charlotte Corday 
par l'enthousiasme a un aete t6meraire de patriotisme; elle sup- 
portaif des persecutions et des suuff ranees terribles, dans lesquelles 
elle montrait une patience inepuisable qui ne pouvait sortir que de 
l'ame d'une patriote. On voit la superiorit6 de l'esprit de 
Madame Roland sur celui de Charlotte Corday eu ceci, qu'elle 
reconnut Danton comme la t£te du triumvirat. Elle dit, "Dan- 
ton est chef, Robespierre est sa marionette, Marat tient son flam- 
beau et son poignard." Si Charlotte Corday avait tue Danton, 
des resultats bien plus important^ auraient suivi. 

Quand on compare ces femmes nobles de la Revolution avec 
les femmes de l'cpoqne snivante, on pent a peine croire qu'elles 
pnissent appartenir an nieme siecle et a la meme nation. II semble 
que l r exemple des patriotes distinguees aurait dii remplir leur sexe 
d'admiration et du desir de leur ressembler en vertu. Mais dans 
la cour de Napoleon, nous ne trouvons que la frivolite, — l'empereur 
craignait et detestait less femmes de talent. Les deux femmes 
dont les vies se sont elevees au-dessus des folies de l'epoque, furent 
exilees de cette cour, exilees a cause de leur influence grande et 
formidable. Mais, quoique Xapol6on essayait d'^touffer leurs 
voix, les noms de ces femmes vivront a jamais. Celui de 
Madame Recamier sera toujours associe avec tout ce qui est 
pur, aimable, et de bon rapport, et avec la beautee de figure et 
de forme qui couvient a. une telle ame. Celui de Marie Neeker, 
la femme brillante du Suede Baron de Stael, est renomme partout 
le monde. Elle poss^dait la force et le genie d'un homme, 
temperes par les charmes et les graces de son sexe. Elle s'est 
attiree tout le monde par son aspect et ses facultes brillants. Son 


port plein de grace et de majestie, son sourire aimable et seduisant, 
sa langue Gloquente toujours pr6te a donner quelque repartee 
piquante, la rendit le centre de la societe partout ou elle allait. 
Quel cercle brillant s'est rassembl6 a Weimar, ou se trouvaient 
Auguste et Friedrich Schlegel, Madame de Stael, Schiller et 

Avec le nom de Madame de Stael, nous finirons notre role de 
Francaises Celehres, sans oublier qu'il y en a d'autres qui out 
ete les ornenients de leur patrie. Cependant, une meilleure gloire 
est la recompense de la femme qui a rendu de vrai service, etc'est 
a Madame de Stael que la France doit cet esprit liberal qui en 
developpant les sympathies et etendant la domaine de la pensee, 
peut seul conduire les hommes a la perfection de l'intellect et de 


After man's fall and his consequent expulsion from the beauti- 
ful garden where lie had dwelt in perfect happiness, the earth, 
which hitherto had only smiled upon him, grew dark and gloomy. 
It no longer yielded its fruits spontaneously. Thorns pierced his 
hands as he tried to tend the flowers lie loved so well. The little 
brooks, troubled and muddy, did not refresh him. The hot sun 
beat upon him, his heart failed, and he almost wished for that 
"new mystery," Death, which would now surely befall him.. 

But as time went on he became reconciled to his lot. For as 
the hope which had been given him when he left the garden grew 
stronger and clearer, nature once more became beautiful to him. 
The world in all the marvellous freshness and grandeur of its 
youth strengthened his spirit. The stars in their wonderful 
nightly courses quieted and soothed him. The low music of the 
brooks and the more majestic harmonies of the mighty rivers and 
oceans inspired anil ennobled him. Man loved this creation; 


effort in its behalf became a joy ; and from love and effort was 
born Enthusiasm. 

Commissioned to raise our fallen world, Enthusiasm unites all 
the highest and loftiest emotions of man. First, Love, the key- 
note. Not in its highest type, the love that embraces the world, 
but a love strengthening the mind by devotion to one object. As 
is the object so is the love. If the former be low and sordid, 
then will the latter be dwarfed, belittled. Next, Faith. Ever 
returning to this sure foundation, the spirit wearied with toil is, 
like the fabled Antseus, ever refreshed for the conflict ever to be 
renewed. Faith sees the desired eud not far off but present, 
clear and sharply defined as is the finished symphony, as yet un- 
written, in the mind of the true musician. Submissive, child-like 
faith is no part of Enthusiasm, but faith intense, ever urging 
onward to the goal. 

But disappointments, deferred hopes sufficient to stagger both 
faith and love throng around man's path. These, Imagination 
gently removes. Carrying the soul far beyond the present, it 
reveals the glories of future results. The eye of imagination 
shows to each enthusiast his heaven ; no marvel that he who has 
seen its beauties heeds not the earthly obstacles which bar his 
upward path. Yet, ah ! how soon do men forget their noble pur- 
poses and only dream of their fulfilment. There have been men 
whose genius, faith, and high aspirations gave promise of true 
enthusiasm. Their lives were filled with splendid visions, never 
to be realized ; their few works were, like their lives, incomplete. 
The,y lacked Concentration. This is the lens which focuses all 
man's vague ideals to ardent purpose ; separate, they are powerless. 

Love, Faith, Imagination, Concentration ! Do these constitute 
Enthusiasm? Philosophers tell us that if all the properties of 
bodies were removed, there would still be a residuum, the individ- 
ualizing essence. So is it with Enthusiasm. What then is its 
essence? Love? Love is simple. Its character is elementary. 
It is lofty in self-sacrifice, giving much, demanding little. But 
it must have a tangible object upon which to expend itself; it 


lives iii the present. That which we seek is not here. Shall we 
call it Hope? Surely now we have grasped it. As the word is 
spoken it vanishes. Is it Strength? Strength is a prime char- 
acteristic of Enthusiasm, hut it is equally so of Patience. 
Search as we may, we shall never find it. It is unnamable. 
The essence of Enthusiasm is as the electric spark which com- 
pounds unlike elements, but which defies definition. 

When the world was young - , man made for himself a golden 
age in the dim past, an age when men were like to the gods. 
Xot content with this, he imagined another golden 'age for the 
future, far off, only to be reached by patient toil, but yet 
attainable. This beautiful idea of the heathen has outlived the 
centuries. The looked-for end is still a golden age, and some, 
the few who are endowed with enthusiasm, have achieved it. 
Each enthusiast has his own. His daily life may be full 
of sorrow, toil and suffering, but in this vision-world is light and 
songr. Song" truly: for the world of music, so entirely distinct 
from our work-a-day world, Enthusiasm claims as its own. 
Silently, softly, it lures man to cross the confines of the wonder- 
ful land. Wherever Enthusiasm enters, no matter what the origi- 
nal bent of the mind, it brings with it snatches of song. To 
some it brings the hallelujahs of the wild storm-blast; of the 
mighty waves tossing and moaning in their ocean-home, of the 
flashing lightning or pealing thunder. To others, it gives the 
requiem of the zephyr as it sighs through the trees, or the lullaby 
of the water purling over its rocky lied, or the solemn harmony 
of the moonlight hovering over the resting world. 

Nothing great is accomplished without Enthusiasm. The 
poetry that touches and elevates the soul, the painting that lives 
and breathes bear the impress of its mighty spirit. Enthusiasm has 
founded and nourished poetry, science and art. Enthusiasm has 
established kingdoms, explored oceans, discovered continents. It 
has soared into space and brought even the far off quivering stars 
near to man. Finally, it is the lever that moves the world, and 
the heart of man is its Pou Sto. 



Fish have been animals of note throughout all ages. They 
are mentioned quite frequently in the Bible. Nets seem to have 
been the usual means of catching them. In fact, they are still 
those of the fisherman. The hook and line is used by people 
indulging in fishing as mere sport. It is a common saying that 
no one save a lazy person could ever be a fisherman ; but fisher- 
men lead very industrious lives, and we are indebted to them 
for some of our choicest dishes. 

Fishing is carried on extensively in France and Russia, Nor- 
way and Sweden, and furnishes a large part of the trade of these 
countries. Mussels and oysters, often classed as fish, are found 
in the Bay of Biscay, as Avell as in other parts of Europe and 
in America, and sardines and shrimps abound on the southern 
coast of France; the latter also on the English shore. The 
carp is a very renowned fish. It was introduced into England 
three hundred years ago, and the ponds of all handsome resi- 
dences are stocked with it to-day. At Versailles there is a carp 
which is said to be over two hundred years old, but it has 
attained only the usual length. Greenwich, on the Thames, 
furnishes the white-bait, a fish highly esteemed by the London 
epicures. It is extremely small, and is a branch of the herring 
family. Its scales are diminutive and thin. White-bait come 
up the river early in the spring to spawn. They are caught as 
early as April and as late as September. 

The American Fisheries have furnished a huge bone of con- 
tention to the United States and Great Britain. In 1775, the 
people of the colonies were not allowed to fish in His Majesty's 
dominions, and the fishermen of New England gave themselves 
up to privateering. In the year 1783 our countrymen were 
allowed the excellent privilege of fishing in the bays, harbors, 
rivers, lakes and creeks of Canada. In 1854 this act was 
repealed and another was passed, allowing us to catch all kinds 


of fish, except the shell-fish, and to land and dry our nets. 
These acts have been greatly to the advantage of some of the 
States, where fishing is an important business. Maine has fine 
fisheries, and the seine is hauled all along tli£ Atlantic and Gulf 

Fish are not only useful in commerce. They afford delight 
to both body and mind, give pleasure to the palate, and, to all 
so inclined, the sport of angling. Many places owe their fame 
to their fish-dinners. Of Greenwich we have already spoken, 
whither come prince and peasant to dine with equal pleasure on 
the white-bait. Great preparations are made in the town annu- 
ally at the adjournment of Parliament. Lords, Dukes and 
Earls come there to dine. The most luxurious Xew Yorker feels 
himself happy behind the rough boards of Fulton Market, eat- 
ing oysters on the shell. He may even be tempted to lunch 
thus during some months whose name lacks the saving "r." 
The people of Xew Orleans think nothing of the distance to 
Lake Ponchartrain when p-oino- to dine on the red-head. Thev 
are certainly well repaid for their trouble, for the red-head is 
the poetry of fish, and the views of the lake and the surround- 
ing landscape are fine. Old Point, on the Virginia coast, is 
the place for soft crabs. They have to be " picked," no easy 
task, before they are eaten. With fish they form a large part 
of the fare of the hotel. The soft crabs are fond of staying in 
holes under the sand, and are washed ashore quite frequently. 
A little south of Old Point, on the Carolina coast, is Morehead 
City. Here you may bathe, yacht and fish to your heart's con- 
tent, coming ashore to dine on baked blue-fish, a dish both rich 
and savory. 

To visit these celebrated places and enjoy the results of the 
seine or the line, is, we grant, pleasant; but far pleasanter to 
Raleigh people is a fish-fry on the Neuse, during the delightful 
month of May. Then shadding is at its height, and by the 
quiet river one is free from the noise of watering-places. The 
heat of summer has not come, and beautiful scenery meets the eye 


everywhere. The seine-hole is at a place called Milburnie, 
named after a place in Scotland, by some Scots who came here 
twenty years ago. The ruins of a paper-mill stand upon the 
banks, listening to. the continuous murmur. The beautiful 
river sweeps gently by. The bright boughs are swayed to and 
fro by the current as they bend above the river. Now and then 
a turtle swims rapidly down stream, or a fish leaps into the 
air. Quaint little cottages, the old homes of the Scotch immi- 
grants, are dotted along the banks and over the green hills. A 
few stores, an old mill, a church and these houses are the only 
remains of the little settlement. A small wooded island lies 
opposite the seine-hole. 

Fish are caught at Milburnie from the middle of April until 
the first of June. Scarcely a day passes without the arrival of 
some pleasure-seekers with hooks, lines and poles. And what 
lots of fun they anticipate! The first thing to be done is to dig 
a sufficient supply of bait ; then the fishing begins in earnest. 
Some of the men remain on the banks, while others take a boat. 
Just down the river, at the seine-hole, a most interesting sight is 
presented to the spectators, it is the hauling of the seine. The 
nets are soon ashore, and the fish emptied out on the grass. 
What a mixture! Shad, cat-fish, terrapins, turtles, eels ! All 
scrambling and wriggling to get back to their watery 
bed. The eager spectators rush forward to purchase the 
best. The clams are put in a pile on the bank, for they are not 
considered worth eating. The terrapins and eels are either 
thrown into the river or left on the shore untouched. The shad, 
cat-fish, and turtles are carried to the store to be sold. The 
former can be obtained for fifty cents. But our pleasure party 
catches its own fish by rod and line, and when they have enough 
for a dinner, lay aside the poles and build a fire under the oaks, 
whereon to fry their game. Some of the small fish actually 
jump up in the pan. A table-cloth, as white as snow, is spread 
on the ground, and the feast is now ready. Such delicious 
pickle, bread, jelly and fruits were never before seen ; but deli- 


cious above all is the shad, piping hot, and golden brown. It 
is so nice here under the dense shade of the oaks, with the cool 
river breeze blowing in our faces! Dinner over, we take a boat- 
ride down the stream in order to see the lovely landscape. At 
some places the river-bed is nothing but solid rock. Now and 
then glimpses of the green corn can be caught through the trees. 
Creek-ivy and yellow jessamine climb up the willows, and the 
latter hang over the water in graceful festoons. At a point five 
miles up the river we turn round and bend our course home- 
ward. When Milburnie is reached the sun is fast sinking in 
the west. The day has been a pleasant one, and we take our 
departure, saying, " Let the Londoner praise Greenwich and 
the Xew Yorker, Fulton Market ; let the Crescent City adore 
Lake Ponchartrain, and the Wilmingtonian dote on Old Point 
and Morehead City ; but we of Raleigh rest content with shad- 

m 7 c 

ding on the Xeuse." 


Cooking, as much as other arts, requires talent, but much can 
be learned by experience. The cook must choose, and mix her 
materials as carefully as the painter does his paints, for only 
carefulness in details makes a perfect whole. Cooking is very 

"We may live without poetry, music and art; 
We may live without conscience, and live without heart; 
We may live without friends, we may live without books; 
But civilized man cannot live without cooks. 

"He may live without books, — what is knowledge but grieving? 
He may live without hope, — what is hope but deceiving? 
He may live without love, — what is passion but pining? 
But where is the man that can live without dining?" 

Consequently this art was early cultivated. Posidonius 


thought it followed immediately upon the discovery of fire, and 
that at first it was an imitation of mastication and digestion. 
While man is in the savage state his cooking is rude, and his 
utensils are few and inconvenient; but as civilization advances 
the art is cultivated. Compare the cooking utensils of a New 
England farmer's thrifty wife with those of a Caflir, or an 
Indian. Look first at the rows upon rows of tin pans shining 
like silver, the bright copper saucepans and kettles glittering 
like gold; then look at the dried gourds, whose contents are 
cooked by dropping in red-hot stones. Compare the modern 
range and its numberless compartments and conveniences, 
with the hole in the ground, lined with flat stones, with 
a kind of scaffold erected over it, composed of two forked sticks 
planted upright with another laid across the tops, upon which 
is hung a strip of venison or buffalo hump, getting sadly 
scorched and smoked as it cooks. But, as was said before, as 
civilization advances, so does the art of cooking. The Ancients, 
who brought all the fine arts to perfection, were well skilled in 
it. We have accounts in history of some of their feasts and 
even of some of their private dinners. The Greeks raised the 
culinary department to a high art. In the age of Homer royal 
personages prepared their own meals. This shows that they be- 
lieved in Miles Standish's favorite maxim, "If you wish a thing 
to be well done, you will do it yourself." Menelaus, at Hermione's 
wedding feast, himself placed the banquet before the guests. 
Penelope's suitors seem to have spent most of their time, when 
not engaged in pressing their snits, in flaying oxen and swine to 
be roasted upon spits. This seems to have been the favorite 
method of cooking meats; at most of the feasts "oxen roasted 
upon the spit" are prominently mentioned. Broiling, also, seems 
to have been much in favor. Patroclus feasted the Argive 
leaders upon the shoulders of lambs, a succulent pig, and a 
fat doe, which were broiled upon live coals and garnished with 
the entrails of oxen. If Patroclus had employed a cook, more 
varied cookery might have been secured-; but perhaps no hands 


less illustrious than his own should have prepared the food of 
his honored guests. Speaking of chiefs doing their own. cookery 
makes us think of "King Alfred and the cakes." What a pic- 
ture does this call up! a winter night, a lonely hut on a wide 
plain over which the wind rushes boisterously, howling as it 
sweeps around any object that stands in its way; a bright fire 
throwing its light over the room and especially over the noble 
looking figure that sits before it buried in thought, absently 
mending his arrows. 

Professional cooks appeared long before the Age of Pericles, 
and we read that they could serve up a whole pig boiled on one 
side and roasted on the other, and stuffed with spiced thrushes, 
eggs, and other delicacies, the sides of the pig so nicely joined 
that the guests could not find the joining. 

As it was an ambition with the cooks to excel in cooking, 
so it was with the richer class to excel in eating. Perhaps 
we are rather hard upon these poor gluttons, for they were much 
tempted. The professional cooks of this day say that their tal- 
ents are wasted at the restaurants, for the people they serve are 
hungry. A master-cook requires for his judge one whose appe- 
tite is satisfied, whose palate only is to be tempted. Cook-kings 
have a reputation which they carefully guard. Sometimes one 
of them invents a dish and names it after some important per- 
sonage. Then, I have heard, he obtains a patent by which no 
one who prepares a dish by his recipe may change it in the least, 
lest the dish be harmed and his reputation suffer. The salaries 
paid these cooks are enormous, six thousand dollars a year being 
a very moderate sum. 

The Greeks excelled in the cooking of fruits, such as sweet- 
meats, etc., but the Romans in the solid dishes. The latter, of 
course, in order to keep the valuable art of cooking from lan- 
guishing, developed their appetites to a remarkable extent and 
the country abounded in gluttons and epicures. Their palates 
were so highly cultivated that an epicure was not considered 
accomplished unless he could tell on which side of the bridge of 


the Tiber a fish was caught. The Roman Emperors and wealthy 
Patricians spent enormous sums on their private dinners. The 
breakfasts of some of them cost enough to have enriched one 
hundred poor families. Sometimes a single fish cost as much as 
an ox. Pliny says that snails were fattened until their shells 
would hold several quarts. Inhabitants of Herculaneum and 
Pompeii decorated their dining-rooms with pictures of fruit and 

After the incursion of the Barbarians into Italy, cooking re- 
tired with learning into the convents. We all know how cele- 
brated were the monks for their high living. Cooking revived 
with the other fine arts. In England it was at first very simple, 
but after William the Conqueror became king, the monasteries 
grew famous for their kitchens. 

The styles in which kitchens are built and furnished differ 
much in different ao-es and countries. The Roman Patricians 
did not allow theirs to go bare. If they required much from 
their cooks, they did their best to make them happy. The 
kitchens had marble floors and were magnificently adorned with 
pictures and costly ornaments. "The culinary utensils, as grid- 
irons, dripping-pans, etc., were of bronze plated with silver, and 
the saucepans were sometimes of silver." These kitchens con- 
trast strongly with our modern ones, and the contrast is not 
always favorable to the former, I think; the wide hearth with 
its bright fire, the convenient stove, the clean floor, white tables, 
and glittering tin and copper ware, are pleasant to look upon. 
Perhaps the French kitchen is more like those of the Ancients. 
Round the range is a well-scrubbed rail of shining brass, upon 
which the towels are hung. The floor is of red, white and 
black tiles arranged in a pretty pattern. Behind the stove the 
wall is tiled in blue and white, tiles being easily kept clean; the 
ceiling is white and the walls are painted of some dark color, 
perhaps deep red. At one end are shelves upon which are placed 
the gleaming copper pots and saucepans, with those made of the 
more sober iron, and along the wall is a row of nails upon which 


are hung ladles, spoons, etc. In the window grow brilliant 
flowers, and a door opens into a cellar in which are two taps of 
water, keeping the cook well supplied. Most French kitchens 
are built in this way, the colors, of course, differing according to 
the taste of the owner. The kitchens of the poorer classes are 
much the same, but they are so small that they look almost like 

In many of the large streets of Paris, such as La Rue de La 
Fayette, Bslleville, etc., are open kitchens. Before the glowing 
fire is a spit upon which fowls are cooking. The cooked food is 
placed upon a table and sells immediately. The kitchens at 
Jamaica are different from any we have vet seen. The verv 
wide fire-place contains a stone table about ten feet long and three 
feet wide. The chimney gradually decreases in size above the 
table till, at the top, it is not much more than ten feet square. 
The smoke, having such ample room to ascend, of course refuses 
to do so, and hangs in a dark cloud over the room, giving the 
walls and rafters a shining black coat. Upon the stone table are 
as many little fires as there are dishes to be cooked. Almost 
everything is cooked in pots or on the spit. The utensils are 
not verv numerous, one kitchen seldom containing more than a 
pot, a saucepan, a frying-pan, and a spit; yet with these a din- 
ner of twenty dishes will be prepared, and, strange to say, the 
food is not smoked. 

The great French cooks of the present day are learned men. 
One of them turned his kitchen into a laboratory and became 
famous for his chemical experiments. They seem to be more 
like the cooks of ancient times than are their brethren of other 
countries, but alas! it is said that even they have deteriorated 
sadly. I fear none of them have given their whole hearts to 
their work, as did one of their predecessors who killed himself 
in despair at the non-appearance of a dish. 



The heavy rain-fall about dusk on the evening of May 27th 
filled us with anxiety, lest we should have no actors, much less 
any audience. Thus always do the hostile elements strive to 
cheat us out of the prettiest entertainment of all the year. But 
a bright streak along the western horizon promising fair weather 
stirred both little folk and big to attend and crowd sour parlor 
with an enthusiastic assembly. Suddenly the busy tongues were 
hushed, for a lively march had struck up, and 

" All the little boys and girls, 
With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, 
And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls," 

came proudly in. They greeted us with Rubinstein's "Spring 
Song," seeking the while amid that sea of faces, the cheering, 
approving smiles of papa and mamma. Presently, instead of 
the chorus, one small figure occupied the stage, and told us in a 
most knowing way "How T to do It"; that is, how to "elocute." 
Then came quartette and song and recitation and, above all, 
the calisthenics. In these Bessie, the eldest of our babies, made 
her first public appearance and was presented with a basket of 
beautiful flowers. 

But the free-hand and dumb-bell calisthenics, although led by 
the fairy Katie Haywood and perfect in themselves, could not 
from their nature allow of such graceful execution as did the 
exercise of the rings, led by Mary B. Snow. These attitudes, 
each lovelier than the last, were only too few in the minds of 
those who would have seen again that swaying as of sail-boat 
gently tossed — -those tip-toe pointings, balancings — that nestling 
like the partridge 'neath the waving fern — those angel arms out- 
stretched to bless a kneeling form. 

Owing to accident the order of exercises was considerably 
changed, but happily nothing was left out. Both the dramas 


wore delayed, so that we almost despaired of hearing from our 
famous little Franchises, and still more did we fear being disap- 
pointed of the scene from Shakspeare, intrusted, as rarely hap- 
pens, 10 children. Great was the long-withheld pleasure. Little 
Prince Arthur's tearstained face became her well, pleading with 
Hubert for his eves. And vet how gay and careless that same 
face a few minutes afterward as it assumed the character of "La 
Petite Inutile!" Lula T. Holden's piano solo of " Norma" filled 
us with admiration for the young performer's skill, and the 
"Postilion d' Amour" by Eliza Marshall and Bessie Tucker did 
them credit. Master Geo. M. Gales's "Patter of the Shingle/' 
though not thundered forth like his " Hohenlinden " of last year, 
received the highest honor of the evening, that of an encore, 
with which George was nothing loth to comply. Of the choruses, 
by far the most artistic was "From Oberon in Fairyland," sung 
in parts, soprano and contralto, by those wee small voices. 


St. Mary's has never had a larger attendance at any entertain- 
ment than at the dramatic soiree of June 9th. Not only was the 
parlor filled but also the school-room and porch, whence our visit- 
ors made frequent but futile attempts to hear or see. Crowds of 
grown-up gentlemen stood on the roofs of covered way and well, 
while eager hands tore awav the scaffolding from the new build- 
ing and dragged it to the parlor windows. Others were glad to 
hang to the gutters, and ingenuity being exhausted, carriage after 
carriage drove away only to tell still others that there was no 
use in coming. 

Our elocutionists were nerved to their utmost powers by the 
encouragement of such an audience. What though " Wallen- 
stein's Tod" was in German, could- one fail to understand the 
language of gesture and sign? Our actors showed themselves 


not unacquainted with the speech of nature, especially Max, who 
had to fight the conflict of doubt and hesitation between love and 
duty. Thekla's self-control and sacrifice of her feelings in mak- 
ing the final decision were admirable, and Wallenstein proved 
himself capable of anger and pride. 

The selection from "Julius Caesar," though not honored with 
special costumes, was finely set off by appropriate scenery. The 
house of Brutus was a perfect bower of "ivy and the clambering 
rose," while the Roman tent announced the battle field not far 
distant. The actors of this play did well for novices, their faults 
being those of the amateur, too little action and display of emo- 
tion. Portia's character was well sustained. Brutus was not 
serious enough for the great step he was taking, and displayed 
rather too much self-command at the news of his wife's death. 
The song of Lucius, although without accompaniment, and more- 
over a "sleepy tune," pleased every one. 

In King Rene's Daughter our "stars" shone with unimpaired 
lustre, without the cloud of a foreign tongue. Every character 
deserves honorable meution. The king was truly royal in affairs 
of state, but only the tender father appeared when he spoke to 
Iolanthe. Her character was even more beautiful than her face 
and form. Child-like in faith, humility and obedience, simple 
without bashfulness, what a strange power she had over those 
sightless eyes! Sir Tristan, lately Max Piccolomini, who can 
describe his looks, every one the index of a thought? — profound 
wonder at the discovery of the sacred garden, wrapt admiration 
at the sight of Iolanthe, intense pity of her blindness, impetuous 
wrath at meeting the king, and boundless joy at the unexpected 
possession of the princess! The face of Ebu Jahia was also a 
study, for the very reason that it was dark and mysterious, im- 
possible to read. We enjoyed highly the songs of Geoffroy, 
Tristan, and Iolanthe, Geoffroy's the most. We lose in our 
graduating class our most accomplished elocutionists, but in Sir 
Almerik, Iolanthe, Portia, Brutus, and Cassius we look for as 
brilliant performance when their powers shall have been culti- 
vated as long. 


A little more than a month ago the class of '84, resigning 
the editorial chair with words of hearty fellowship and good 
will, bemoaned the derth of "current topics." We, on the con- 
trary find an embarrassment in the number of events to be chron- 
icled by our unaccustomed pen, and dread above all lest we fail 
to relate adequately the honors clustering thick upon the happy 

About the middle of May, from far and near, the Doctors 
came to town. They held learned consultations in the Capitol; 
they partook of "hot and cold tongue" at select lunches; and one 
night they came in a body to St. Mary's. Old and young com- 
bined to entertain them. In the midst of the pressing work of 
the closing weeks of school it was impossible to prepare anything 
new for the occasion. The Seniors, therefore, gave the ever wel- 
come selection from "The Taming of the Shrew," first given in 
the winter at the Mozart and Mendelssohn Recital for the bene- 
fit of St. John's Hospital, and a scene from one of Schiller's plays. 
The little folks did calisthenics and "postures." Songs were 
sung and a few instrumental solos played. Every one of us felt 
at her ease, because we were doing things wo had done before, 
and knew we should not fail. Alice Hagood never sung or re- 
cited better; Emmie McVea was at her happiest; and a little 
after ten o'clock the gentlemen, of whom there were about one 
hundred and tweney-five, left, unanimously expressing pleasure 
and thanks for our efforts. Let us here express reciprocal pleas- 
ure and hopes that this will not be their last visit to St. Mary's. 

The next week the class began to gather for the closing of 
the school-year. Back to Alma Mater came most of the girls 
who would have graduated in '84, had they only stayed. First, 
from Charleston, came the Ravenels, eager above all things to be 
here on "the children's night." Next, the Tarboro girls, one to 


take her diploma;, one to look on. Later, our Chip from New- 
bern. Then from Wadesboro and Wilmington, from Ed en ton 
and Hillsboro, came graduates of former years to witness the 
successes of their old school-mates and friends. Janet Whitfield 
and Alice Winston both paid a transient visit, but were unable 
to remain through Commencement-week. Lastly, at noon on 
Monday arrived Mrs. Meares, the enthusiastic friend whose name 
is inseparably linked with the honors and well-being of the school. 

Our reporter has given elsewhere an account of the " Children's 
Entertainment," the programme of which will be found below 
with those of Commencement-week. Let us only sav here that 
the little ones' did all that was expected of them with a simplicity 
and an artless grace that won all hearts; and our friends have 
not yet exhausted their praises of the results of simple daily 
duties faithfully performed. 

Next came examinations; and from these resulted surprising 
revelations for the graduating class. The school had long before 
determined who was to be Valedictorian. But marks ran very 
close and each partisan was a little doubtful of her favorite's suc- 
cess. To the amazement of all, the youngest girl in the class 
carried off the honor with an average of 98.4 of the maximum, 
and by an advantage of -^ per cent. The examination-mark 
which bore her triumphantly above the three competitors who 
had heretofore ranked above her in average standing, was given 
on her paper in Spherical Trigonometry and Mathematical as- 
tronomy by the Professor filling that chair in the New York 
University. This mark was 95 on a maximum of 100. 

On Monday last the Commencement-exercises began with a 
"Literary Entertainment," in which appeared not only our sen- 
ior elocutionists, whose charming work has been ever ready upon 
demand for two years past, but a host of young aspirants for the 
same honors from various classes, from Senior B to Junior B. 
These presented the Garden and Tent scenes from "Julius 
Csesar." We differ with our honored reporter in her estimate of 
Brutus' self-command, and would remind her that the great con- 


spirator was a Roman and a Stoic. In our opinion, the chief 
difference between the older and the younger elocutionists con- 
sisted in the perfect ease with which the voices of the former 
filled the room ; and in the fact that the latter evidently acted, 
the former were, for the time being, the persons they represented. 
But Brutus and Cassius deserve special mention for the admira- 
ble manner in winch they sustained their difficult parts. 

In the German play, the minor parts were as admirably ren- 
dered as those of Wallenstein, Max and Thekla. Rosabelle 
Hoyt, especially, doing the "Countess Tersky" to the life. In 
"Julius Caesar," also, she carried out well the part of Casca. 

But the gem of the evening was "Kino- Rene's Daughter," a 
lyric drama by the Danish poet, Heinrik Herz. Of this play, 
our Director of Music, himself a Dane, who has seen it acted in 
his own land, said that he should never wish to see it again ; but 
would always prefer to identify the blind girl with Carrie Mathew- 
son, and her lover with Alice Hagood. Our Lady- Principal 
says that* she has long waited for the girls who could fill these 
parts and that of Sir Geoffrey (Emmie McVea), and that this 
year she has for the first time found them together. She also 
says that she has never before found the girl to do Schiller's 
"Diver," and on Wednesday night we learned what she means. 
We marvel that our reporter has made no mention of Bert rand 
(Mary Hicks), and Martha (Emmie Smedes), upon whose beau- 
tifully clear enunciation and unfolding of the plot the whole com- 
prehension of the play depended. Sir Almerik too was excel- 
lent, and as far removed as possible from the "Little Star" that 
appeared on Wednesday evening. On the whole, we may be 
pardoned for quoting from the News and Observer the following 
remarks concerning ".The dramatic performance of the young 
ladies of St. Mary's School on Monday evening. It was cer- 
tainly of very unusual excellence and has elicited encomiums from 
every quarter. As an evidence of the thorough and intelligent 
training afforded by the school, it must have been highly grati- 
fying to the patrons of the venerable institution and no less so 

202 -ST. MARY'S MUSE. 

to the Principal and his corps of teachers that it showed the 
complete success of their efforts. It was a beautiful entertain- 
ment, creditable in every way to all concerned, and was charac- 
terized by that indescribable refinement and delicacy which 
always mark the public exercises of St. Mary's." 

Tuesday and Wednesday morning examinations went on as 
usual (the Seniors, of course, having finished with such things 
the week before), occasional sweet sounds issuing from the par- 
lor alone telling that anything more delightful was in anticipa- 
tion. Once, when an unearthly shriek rang through the house, 
there was a slight commotion, and one young lady ran to see if 
any one had fainted, but she returned ignominionsly with the 
information that it was "only elocution." At last, on Wednes- 
day evening, took place the finest concert ever given at St. 
Mary's. How could it fail to be so when almost every one of 
the performers was thought fit to appear upon the concert pro- 
gramme two whole years ago? From first to last there was not 
a flaw. Of course there was a difference in the quality of the 
voices, in the ability of the players, in the length of training, 
and in the difficulty of the selections. But each number w 7 as well 
within the power of the performer and, as was remarked by 
the audience, each was more beautiful than the last. Annie 
Blackmer's powerful touch, wonderful in so young a girl, re- 
minded one of the full orchestra when the waltz is going on in 
the market-place; but presently, with perfect modulation, the 
tones of Faust's inquiry and the gentle reply of Marguerite 
melted on the ear, and the strain flowed on with perfect expres- 
sion underneath the soft ripple of the treble till again the waltz- 
tones crashed out, and ended. Of Mittie Dowd's " Folkedandse," 
and Weber's beautiful Concert-piece, . played by the two 
Emmies, it was said by competent critics that not a note was 
dropped and the expression was perfect. Bach's great fugue 
held the place of honor, and Annie Philips' beautiful technique 
brought out the separate voices in exquisite interchange. Of 
this, and indeed of all the severely classical music, it may be 


said, as the highest praise, that no one in the large audience 
seemed in the slightest degree wearied. Of the vocal music 
the "Theme de Rode" with its exquisite cadenzas and roulades 
was only excelled by the pathos of "Adelaide," and the fire and 
passion of Emmie MeVea's "O mio Fernando." It is impossi- 
ble to make any comparison between the latter's powerful con- 
tralto and Alice Hagood's silvery soprano. Mamie Osborne 
too, sang delightfully in both duos, and gives promise of being 
the prima donna next year. .The quartettes this evening and 
Monday were charming, but lost their effect, for people always 
talk during quartettes unless they are trying, as during the 
" Tannhauser," to find out if the performers are breaking down 
or if it is the instrumentation that is so peculiar. 

In the elocution, Ida Gartrell did beautifully, Emmie Smedes 
was perfect; Emmie MeVea's address sounded as if she were the 
Mahdi himself, and her Latin ode brought down the house; 
while Maud Cuuingham's "Dramatic Elocution," especially her 
comedian's laugh was so effective that she had to pause for the 
laughter to subside. But we have no epithets wherewith to 
describe "The Diver." We saw the merciless king, his gentle 
daughter, the awe-struck courtiers. We heard the roar of the 
breakers and lived through the agony of the diver as the mon- 
sters darted on their prey. Loud and long was the applause 
Alice Hagood received, and were encores en regie at St. Mary's, 
she must certainly have returned. But, instead, nine quiet young 
ladies took their places and sang their lovely "Good Night" in 
perfect contrast to what had gone before. 

At eleven o'clock on Thursday morning again an audience of 
interested friends assembled to grace the graduating exercises of 
the class of '84. The Bishop, the Rector, the Rev. Drs. Hub- 
bard, Marshall and Smedes, the Rev. Messrs. Rich, Quin and 
Higgs occupied seats upon the platform, as did also the venerable 
Mr. Paul Cameron of Hillsboro. The room and chapel were 
dressed with flowers, sent by kind friends before we were up in 
the morning. The day was beautiful and every face wore smiles. 


Annie Philips, as Salutatorian, welcomed friends and visitors in 
a few sweet, earnest words. Then followed essay and song and 
recitation, according to the programme, concluding with Belle 
Graves' essay, delivered in German, and her Farewell. Then the 
audience flocked to the Chapel, whither the long line of white- 
robed maidens preceded the teachers, the visiting clergy, the 
Rector and the Bishop. The Anthem was from Handel's 
"Messiah"; and as the grand tones of the organ swelled out and 
supported the clear and powerful young voices singing in glori- 
ous antiphon "The Lord God Omnipotent reigneth, Allelujah!" 
every heart was uplifted, and many an eye grew moist. 

The Rector next read the "Roll of Honor," and commented 
on the earnestness of purpose that has characterized the school 
during the past year. Then calling the graduates to the chancel- 
rail, he presented them with their diplomas, thanking thorn in 
feeling terms for their noble influence in the school. The Bishop 
followed with an earnest and impressive address, dwelling most 
of all upon this thought: "For here we have no continuing 
city." "Were these young girls, now leaving school, thoroughly 
equipped for high enjoyments and noble pleasures, to fix their 
thoughts upon the gaieties, the anxieties, or even the duties of this 
world, it would be as if their minds had been engrossed by the little 
joys and troubles of school, with no thought of the loved home for 
which their life so far had been but a preparation, and to which 
they were even now longing to depart. He knew where their 
hopes, their desires now were. In the school of life, their hopes, 
their desires, their love must be fixed on that eternal home where 
they should receive the welcome given to good and faithful 

Happy class! that goes from Alma Mater's care followed by 
the love and good wishes of all, teachers and scholars, and not 
one anxious thought for their future. Each one stands first in 
something; Lizzie Battle and Belle Graves in Mathematics; 
Alice Hagood in Elocution and Singing; Mittie Dowd in Meta- 
physics; Emmie Smedes in French; Emmie McVea in Compo- 


sitioD and Belles- Lett its; Annie Philips in Music and Painting; 
and that these are not their only honors the List of Distinctions 
tells. Moreover, their class-work has been so even that between 

the highest and the lowest average there is a difference of but two 
and three-tenths marks in a maximum of one hundred. But their 
highest praise consists in this, that not one word or look of envy. 
pride, or jealousy lias marred these last days of the race; but, 
with noble emulation, eacli one striving to win the only prize 
St. Mary's gives, her graduating honors, they have walked in 
love, in honor preferring one another, looking not only "on 
their own things," but each one also "on the things of others." 
Well did their Rector say, "What could ice have done without 
you? You have upheld our arms, you have strengthened our 
hands. Your influence has ever been ou the side of right, and 
will remain with us after you have left the school which for so 
many years has been your home. God grant that in His Heav- 
enly Courts your voices and ours may one day join in the eternal 



Susan Isabel Graves, 98.4 Entered January, 1881. 

Annie Hymax Philips, iis.l " September, 1881. 

Martha Austin Dowd, 07.9 " September, 1881. 

Emilie Watts McYea, 96.7 " September, 1877. 

Elizabeth Dancy Battle, 96.2 " November, 1880. 

Alice Martin Hagood, 96.2 " September, 1880. 

Emilie-Rose Smedes, 96»1 " February, 1877. 



In Composition ; 

i^,— Emilie W. McVea. 

( Martha A. Dowd. 
Second, — 1 Annie H. Philips. 

I Sophia D. Thurmond. 
In French ; 

First, — Emilie R. Smedes.' 

c Annie H. Lewis. 
Second, — < Henrietta R. Smedes. 

I Jennie W. Bingham. 
In German ; 

First, — S. Isabel Graves. 

| Martha A. Dowd. 

^ C o^,-<| AliceM - Hagood - 
Mary L. Hicks. 

Annie H. Philips. 

In Elocution; 

First, — Alice M. Hagood. 

„ , / Emilie W. McVea. 
' I Emilie R. Smedes. 

In Instrumental Music ; 

First, — Annie H. Philips. 

Emilie R. Smedes. 

Martha A. Dowd. 
In Vocal Music ; 

Emilie W. McVea. 

I Alice M. Hagood. 

f Mary L. Osborne. 

\ Carrie E. Mathewson. 



In Painting ; 


First. — < Sophia 

D. Thurmond (water-colors). 

Annie II. Philips (oils). 
Sophia D. Thus 
I Mary L. Hicks (minerals). 

f Maud S. Cuningham (oils). 
Second, — i . 

I S. Ade 

In Drawing ; 


.delene Wicks (minerals). 

f Maude M. Marshall. 

I Mary L. Osbors 



The following young ladies have attained in daily reeitations 
during the year an average grade of more than 95 per cent. : 

Annie llyman Philips 99.2 

Martha Austin Dowd 99.0 

Emilie Watts McVea 98.8 

Alice Martin Hagood 98.7 

Susan Isabel Graves 98.4 

Emilie Rose Smedes 98.4 

Sophia Dabney Thurmond 98.0 

Eliza Battle Pittman 98.0 

Anna Hart well Lewis 97. 9 

Julia Williamson Johnston 97.6 

Carrie Lee Mathewson 97.5 

Helen Floyd MeVea 97.4 

Pattie Williams Gee 97.3 

Mary Lyde Hicks 97.1 

Henrietta Rhea Smedes 96.7 

Mary Sherwin Rice 96.5 

Susan Adelene W 

Elizabeth Wilson McLean 9(5.4 

Adelaide Elizabeth White 96.4 

Margaret Rowlett 96.3 

Leah McClenahau 96.3 

Nina Horner 96.2 

Mary Hilliard Hintoii 96.0 

Emma Julia Horner 95.7 

Maud Somerville Cuningham. . . . 95.6 

Mary Helen Davis 95.6 

Carolina Burgwin Battle 95.4 

Jane Washington Bingham 95.3 

Riea Hannah Finlay 95.0 

Ruth Wilson Hairstou 95.0 

< I race Sampson Strong 95.0 

Frances Maria Hardin 95.0 

Affie Warriner 95.0 

icks 95.0 

The following young ladies are commended for great diligence 
and improvement : 

In the regular course ; 

( lornelia K. Alston, 
Kate B. Green, 

Elizabeth L. Ilearne. 
Rosabelle Hoyt, 
Elizabeth B. Kittrell. 

208 ST. .MARY'S MUSE. 

In elocution ; 

Mary L. Hicks, 
Maud S. Cuningham, 
Carrie L. Mathewson, 
Julia E. Horner, 

In music ; 

Ida May Gartrell, 
Leah McClenahan, 
Lina B. Battle, 
Mary L. Osborne. 

Bessie W. McLean, [ Jennie W. Bingham, 

Henrietta R. Smedes. 


Margaret Devereux Hinsdale 97.3 ; Henrietta Smedes McVea 96.4 

Jane Claudia Saunders 97.3 | Eliza Swepson Marshall 95.6 

The following little girls are commended for diligence and 
improvement : 

Nellie Murray, Dixie Murray, 

Martha Haywood, Addie Grissoin, 

Laura Carter, 
Mary Snow, 

Mildred Badger, 

Mattie Higgs, 
Maud Harris, 
Bessie Tucker. 

In the Primary Department the two who have had first-grade 
reports throughout the year are — 
Katie Haywood 95.1 | Charlie Turner 96.2 


For deportment ; 

Daisy Thompson, 
Annie Wetinore, 
Sophie Hardin, 

Charles Turner, 
William West, 
Samuel Hinsdale. 

For punctuality and regular attendance ; 

George Snow, MiDnie Tucker, 

Kate B. Haywood. 

For proficiency and progress in the studies of the department ; 

Charles Turner, 
Kate Haywood, 
Daisy Thompson, 

Lillie Masten, 
George Gales, 
Logan Harris. 





1. Chorus — Spring-Song, ..... Rubinstein 

Preparatory and Primary ('lasses. 

i. Recitation — How to Do it, - M. AT. Dodge 

Lillie A. Masten. 

3. Quartette — Don Pasqnale, - - arr. by Alberti 

Eliza Marshall and Mary Hardin, 
Bessie Tucker and Octavia Winder. 

4. Calisthenics — Free-hand. 

Primary Classes, led by Katie Haywood. 

5. Piano Duett— La Fille da Regiment, - - arr. by Streabbog 

Lucy Hawkins and Mary Snow. 

'i. Comedie d'Fnfans — Les Petites Inutiles, - - Ordonneaux 

Jennie Saunders, Margaret Hinsdale, and Mary Snow, 
Eliza Marshall, Laura Carter and others. 

7. Chorus — The Spider and the Fly, .... Elliott 

Primary Class A. 

<s. Calisthenics — Dumb-bells. 

Primary A and Preparatory B, led by Katie Haywood. 

9. Piano Solo — Norma, ----- arr. by Krug 

Lula T. Holden. 


1. CHORUS — May-Song, - Reinecke 

Preparatory and Primary Classes. 

2 Rkxttation— Les Boeufs, - Dupont 

Etta S. McVea. 

'■'>. Quartette— Fatinitza, - - - - arr. by Alberti 

Octavia Winder and Lnla Holden, 
Mary Hardin and Mary Snow. 

4. Selection from "King John," Act IV, scs. 1 and 2, - Shakspeure 

Jennie Saunders, Eliza Marshall, Mildred Badger, Martini 

Haywood, Addie Bain, and Sadie Tucker. 

•"). C'HORUS — From Oberon in Fairy-land, - - English Qlei 

Preparatory and Primary Classes. 

w • . i j i I Marv B. Snow, soprano. 

Semi-chorus led l>v . ,.- , n , ' ' ,. 
• l ftadie Incker, contralto. 



6. Recitation — The Patter of the Shingle, 

George M. Gales. 

7. Piano Duemt — Postilion d'Amour, 

Eliza Marshall and Bessie Tucker. 

8. Calisthenics — Rings. 

Preparatory Class A, led by Mary B. Snow. 

9. Chorus— Good-night, - * - 

Preparatory and Primary Classes. 





Act II, scenes 1 and 4; Act- III, sc. 4; Act IV, sc. 3. 

Marcus Brutus, .... Miss Julia E. Horner. 




Trebonius, . 

Deeius Brutus, 

Met ell us, 


Portia, wife to Brutus, 

Lucius, a page, 

" Leah McClenaghan. 

" Kosabelle Hoyt. 

" M. Adele Richardson. 

" Lucy M. Battle. 

" Margaret B. Rowi.ett. 

" S. Adelene Wicks. 

" Jennie W. Bingham. 

" Lina B. Battle. 

" Mary L. Osborne. 

Priest's March from "Athalie," . Mendelssohn 

Misses J. Horner, Hardin, Hearne and McLean. 


Act III 

Wallenstein, Dukeof Friedland 
Max Piccolomini, . 
General Terzky, . 
General Illo, 
Duchess of Friedland, 
Thekla, her daughter, 
( ountess Terzky, . 


Miss Martha A. Dowd. 

" Alice M. Hagood. 

" S. Isabel Graves. 

" Ella McR. Rice. 

" Mary L. Hicks. 

" Annie L. Philips. 

" Rosabelle Hoyt. 

La Belle Griseldis — Duo, • 

Misses J. W. Bingham and H. R. Smedes. 

0. Reinicke 




RENE, King of Provence, 
[olanthe, his daughter, 

Sir Tristan, her lover, . 

Sir Geo'ffroy, tutor to Tristan, 

Bertrand, guardian of Iolanthe, 

Martha, his wife, . 

Erst Jahia, ;i Moorish physician, 

Sir Almerik, 

Miss Ida M. Gartrell. 
" Carrie L. Mathewson. 

" Alice M. Hagood. 
" Emilie W. McVea. 
" Mary L. Hicks. 
" Emilie R. Smedes. 
" Sallie C. Holleman. 
" Maud S. Cuningham. 


Overture to Tannhauser, 

Misses Dowd and Philips, 
Misses Smedes and Graves. 

Piano Solo— Faust-Waltz, 

Miss Annie L. Blackmer. 

Vocal Duo— from "11 Re di Lahore," . 

Misses Osborne and McVea. 

Piano Solo — Witches' Dance, 

Miss Carrie L. Mathewson. 

Recitation — 

a. The Clown's Baby, .... 

b. The Day of Doom, 

Miss Ida M. Gartrell. 

Vocal Solo— Dcsillusion, 

Miss Carrie L. Mathewson. 

Piano Solo — Fantaisie in F minor, 

Miss Sallie C. Holleman. 

Vocal Solo— Theme de Rode, 

Miss Alice M. Hagood. 

Recitation— The Death of Moses, 

Miss Emilie R. Smedes. 

Piano Sdlo— Folkedandse, op. 31, . 

Miss Martha A. Dowd. 




Wallace- Paganini 

C. Thaxter 


Chop in 

arr. by Moreau 

George Eliot 





Concert-stuck, opus 79, . . . . C. M. v. Weber 

Miss Emilie R. Smedes, accompanied by Miss McVea. 

Vocal Solo— Saltarelle//-om "Fior d'Alizn," . . . Masai 

Miss Margaret B. Watson. 

Recitation — 

a. El Mahdi to the Tribes, . . . . E. D. Proctor 

b. Ode II, Book I, ..... Horace 

Miss Emilie W. McVea. 

Recitative and Duo, from "I Lombardi," . . Verdi 

Misses Hagood and Osborne. 

Recitation— Tom's Little Star, ..... Foster 

Miss Maud S. Cuningham. 

Vocal Solo — Adelaide, ...... v. Beethoven 

Miss Alice M. Hagood. 

Piano Solo — Fantaisie and Fugue in G minor, . . . Back 

Miss Annie H. Philips. 

Recitative and Aria— from "La Favorita," . . Donizetti 

Miss Emilie W. McVea. 

Recitation — The Diver, ..... Schiller 

Miss Alice M. Hagood. 

Semi-chorus — Good-night, ..... Goldberg 

Misses Mathewson, Osborne and Freer, 1st soprano. 
Misses Gartrell, Horner and White, 2d soprano. 
Misses Hagood, Graves and Cuningham, 1st contralto. 
Miss McVea, 2d contralto. 

Overture to "Figaros Hochzeit," . . • . Mozart 

Misses Bingham and Osborne, 
Misses White and Freer. 


Salutatory — and Essay — Robert and Elizabeth Browning. 

Miss Annie H. Philips. 

Essay — The Problem of Reform. 

Miss Elizabeth D. Battle. 

Vocal Solo — Will o' the Wisp, 

Miss Emilie W. McVea. 



Essay — The Architecture of the Ancients. 

Miss Alice M. Hagood. 

Essay — Los Franchises t'elebres. 

Miss Emilie JR. Smedes. 

Vocal Solo — The Swabian Maiden, .... Prock 

, Miss Mary L. Osborne. 

Essay — Nature's Genii. 

Miss Martha A. Dowd. 

Essa y — Enthusiasm. 

Miss Emilie W. McVea. 

Vocal Solo— O Don Fatale, ..... Verrli 

Miss Alice M. Hagood. 

Essay — Das Deutsche Geistjienie — and Valledictory. 

Miss S. Isabel Graves. 




Anthem —Lift up your Head, ..... Handel 




Hymn 497, ....... Dudley Buck 



The contributions of St. Mary's Chapel for the session just 
ended amounted to $360.92, as follows : 

To the poor of Raleigh §60.50 

To St. John's Hospital 98.00 

To furnishing Chapel 31.18 

To Rockingham sufferers from cyclone. 25.00 



To Bishop's salary $ 30.00 

To Diocesan Missions 20.00 

To Church at Boone 5.00 

To Church at Marion 20.24 

To Church at Scotland Neck 10.00 

To Church at Tryon City 7.50 

To Church at Henderson 10.00 

To Asylum at Oxford 3.50 

To Aldert Smedes Scholarship (China) 40.00 

Total $360.92 

Bennett Smedes, Rector. 


At 2 p. m., June 12, after the conclusion of the Commence- 
ment exercises, the annual meeting of the Alumnae Association 
was held. The meeting was called to order by the President-, 
Mrs. M. P. Leak. The first thing in order was to elect officers 
for the coming year. The President, Vice-Presidents and Secre- 
tary were re-elected, and the Association proceeded to fill the 
office of Treasurer, left vacant by the resignation of Mrs. Robt. 
H. Jones. Several persons were proposed, but as each in turn 
declined the nomination, it was finally decided, on motion of 
Mrs. C. DeR. Meares, that the two offices of Secretary and 
Treasurer be combined. 

The officers for the coming year, therefore, are : 

President, Mrs. M. P. Leak, Wadesboro, N. C. 

Vice-Presidents, Miss Helen B. Johnson, Raleigh, N. C; 
Miss Eliza N. McKee, Raleigh, N. C. 

Secretary and Treasurer, Miss Kate McKimmon, Raleigh, N. C. 

On motion, the meeting adjourned. 

By order of the President : 

Kate McKimmon, Secretary. 



As I have not yet examined the late Treasurer's accounts, I 
am not prepared to make any statement of the finances of the 
Association. Sixty-five dollars (8(35.00) were collected at the 
meeting, June 12. In the next Muse will be found a statement 
of the funds received and expenditures made during the past 

Kate McKimmon, 
Treasurer St. Mary's Alunmcv Association. 


On the third Sunday after Easter, our Bishop made his an- 
nual visitation and confirmed twenty-two candidates, — the largest 
elass, we believe, ever presented at St. Mary's. 

The Graduates enjoyed a charming evening at the Bishop's, 
the Thursday after the children's entertainment. Let us here 
renew our thanks for his ever thoughtful kindness. 

Judge Philips, of Tarboro, found time in the midst of his 
arduous duties to be present at the late commencement. His 
daughter carries home with her, besides her diploma, first honors 
from the schools of Music and Art. We congratulate the Judge 
on her success, aud only wish that he could have been in time to 
hear her graceful salutatory on Thursday morning. 

Alice Hagood has gone with her parents to spend the sum- 
mer in Virginia. She will return to St. Mary's in September to 
complete some of her pretty work in painting and take a few 
more lessons in singing before going to her distant Texan home. 
Most of the graduates of '84 intend to meet once more in Octo- 
ber, under Alma Mater's wing, before their final separation. 

In the midst of our happy preparations for CYnnmeneement, 
came the sad news of the death of Janie Allen, of the class of 


'78, who was married only a few months ago to Mr. Robt. Cand- 
ler, of Virginia. She died May 20th, at her home in Winston, 
N. C, in the twenty-third year of her age. 

Our dear Bishop, with his usual kindness, took the trouble 
to rearrange the list of his visitations that he might be with us 
during Commencement- week. We were particularly happy to 
have him arrive in time for our Literary Entertainment on Mon- 
day night, to which he came almost immediately from the train. 


How disappointed we were when we found that the new build- 
ing would not be finished in time for the present Art-Exhibition, 
we can scarcely say. But taking comfort from the fact that it 
could not possibly remain unfinished much longer, and would 
surely be ready for the opening of the next session, we once more 
set about the decoration of our old studios. One of these was 
needed for framing, glazing and similar work; so we borrowed 
the Director's music-room and a little room adjoining, and mer- 
rily tried to make them " e'en a'most as good as new." We hung 
Annie Philips' " Poplar Stile " in the most conspicuous place we 
could find, her "Moonlight" opposite, her mirror in a good light, 
her "Marigolds," "Chrysanthemums," "Zinnias," and last, not 
least, her "Mad River" just where people would be sure to see 
them, and felt that we had done justice to the young artist who 
carries off the First Distinction in oil-painting. 

Then we took a large table, covered it prettily, and spread 
thereon all Mary Hicks' lovely china. Here were the "Homes 
of the Poets," all in monochrome, on a set of tea-plates. More 
exquisite work we have rarely seen. Here were " Farringford " 
and "Stoke Regis" and "Chillon" and the' "Brig o' Doon" and 
a dozen more. Here were a " Berry-set," a " Tea-set," a pitcher 


and plaques and other things, all beautifully painted and well- 
deserving to be mentioned first among mineral-painting-. But 
here, too, Annie Philips had some pretty work; an "Ice-cream 
Set," on each piece of which was a snow-scene, and cake-plates. 
Mrs. Wiig, Lizzie Battle, Alice Hagood and Adelene Wick.-, all 
showed beautiful work that tilled several tables. Sallie Holle- 
man's tea-set, decorated with yellow daisies on a straw-colored 
ground, was one of the prettiest on exhibition, as was her set of 
cup, saucer, plate and butter-plate in ears of wheat on a chocolate 
ground. Similar sets and, to our taste, most beautiful had 
golden-rod on a shaded green ground. These were painted by 
Lizzie Battle, who also had some beautiful china in brown mono- 
chrome. A pair of "Pilgrim-bottles" in green monochrome, 
moonlight scenes, were so beautiful that their owner in her moun- 
tain home is greatly envied. In short the exhibit of decorated 
china was larger, more beautiful in design, and more daintily exe- 
cuted than ever before. 

In oils, the largest number of pieces was exhibited by Mrs. 
Wiig, most of them studies from nature. The wistaria and 
magnolia from her brush were startlingly real. Her studies of 
drapery and still-life also attracted attention. Maud Cuningham 
showed several landscapes, plaques and flower studies, as also 
some very pretty barbotine-vrork. Lina Battle's "Callas" were very 
pretty, as were also her plaques, decorated with cloves and pan- 
sies. Cleve Sawyer's panels were deserving of mention, espe- 
cially her "Pond-lilies." Lillic Hilliard had several pieces of 
decorated bric-a-brac and some barbotine-work. Ella Lums- 
den's "View of Rogers' Mill" was very pretty, and recalled 
pleasant woodland drives. Adelene Wicks, Mary Osborne and 
other young ladies were represented by pretty painting in oil. 

In water-colors, Sophia Thurmond takes the first rank. Her 
bunch of " Wild Flowers" was one of the prettiest things in the 
rooms. Her cards, vases, jars, etc., all showed talent and pains- 
taking work. Two beautiful specimens of hammered brass, a 
"Griffin" and a panel of oak leaves and acorns won much admi- 


A large number of young ladies have evidently worked dili- 
gently on cast-drawings, which exercise will doubtless bring forth 
excellent results in the future; but to the eye of the uninstructed 
reporter it is not attractive. We must mention, , however, sev- 
eral crayons. " Deer," by Sophia Thurmond and Inder Tucker, 
" Callas," by Eliza Pittman and Lucy Battle, and some heads by 
Maud Marshall. This last young lady and Mary Osborne share 
the honors of the Drawing Department. 

On the whole the exhibit this year has been most satisfactory, 
and if anything specially worthy of mention has been omitted in 
this report, the fault must be either in the ignorance of the re- 
porter, or in the fact that there was not sufficient hanging-space 
to do justice to the pretty work.